


Upon a Mountain's Edge

by laurie_ky



Series: A Glimmering From Afar [5]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: AU, Bonding, Future Fic, M/M, Rape, Sci-Fi, Sentinels are Known, Space Opera, classist society, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-28
Updated: 2012-05-28
Packaged: 2017-11-06 04:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/414664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book Three in A Glimmering From Afar series. A task force, created to put a stop to the human trafficking of bastards to fund a terrorist group, asks for Jim's and Blair's help, using a sweet-root and stick approach. If they agree, they will be risking their bond, their lives, and for Blair, his mind and body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Path of Sorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/133060) by [laurie_ky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky). 



> My utmost thanks go to the people who made this story possible: the mods of the Sentinel Big Bang, Patt and Morgan, for their hard work (and for granting me an extension), Patt for being the best cheerleader, Bluewolf for the fantastic and speedy beta, and Pete, for the dreamy artwork.

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/laurie_ky/pic/0007d7r6/)

_A Glimmering From Afar_ series

I see, or think I see,  
A glimmering from afar;  
A beam of day, that shines for me,  
To save me from despair.

William Cowper

To thee for help I call;  
I stand upon a mountain's edge;  
Oh, save me, lest I fall.

William Cowper

  
**  
_Upon a Mountain's Edge_   
**   


Book Three of the _A Glimmering From Afar_ Series.

  
**Part One**   


“Hey, Blair, would you fix my desk chair again?” Rolle Ekert asked me, a hopeful tone in his voice.

I looked up at his round, freckled face and put my current project on hold. I didn't mind helping him out; he was one of the MIC detectives who never gave me a hard time about being a bastard convict. 

I took care of the desk chair problem while chatting with him about how his little girl was doing in school. When I finished, I returned to working at Henri's desk, contentedly using his slave to check for data on a case. Henri wasn't in the office. He and his partner, Rafe, had flown to the lovely planet of Marna for a day or so to interview several witnesses for a multi-planet fraud investigation. 

Once Captain Banks had lifted the ban on my helping the protectors, I'd found myself doing more investigative work than janitorial. It certainly made the hours I spent away from my sentinel's side much more interesting, although I made it a point not to complain about doing cleaning jobs as part of my probation. Anyway, I liked staying busy at work. Being a member of the bastard class and firmly at the bottom of the Hundred Worlds' caste system, I tried to avoid being seen as the stereotypical bastard, shiftless and lazy and dishonest. 

I'd studied the history of prejudice in past eras while I'd earned several degrees at the University of Rainier; I was aware that those qualities assigned to bastards had labeled every group of people, including those on Old Earth, discriminated against by groups with higher status. 

Somehow, knowing that my birth circumstance was only the latest in a long list of things people had targeted for abuse towards each other was not comforting in the least.

For the next couple of decades, I would be working with protectors both as Jim's guide and as the hired help, and I wanted their respect. I thought that I had earned some consideration from at least a handful of my new co-workers. 

I'd become friends with Henri and Rafe, and they had promised to bring me back a couple of the expensive cigars that Captain Banks, the head of MIC, enjoyed. 

Captain Banks, or as he'd told me to call him when we were off duty, _Simon_ , had invited me to a poker game at his home, and I wanted to show my appreciation.

He didn't have to associate with a convicted criminal, after all. Even if the said criminal was his detective's guide. 

That detective, my sentinel, was fifteen stories below me in a designated room equipped for holographic court, testifying about a case. Jim had spared me from sitting there with him, bored out of my mind. He knew I'd rather replace air filters or mop floors than sit and twiddle my thumbs while he explained to the judge in another planetary system how he'd used his sentinel senses to acquire evidence that would convict the perp.

At least that guy was guilty of the crime he'd been charged with, unlike me. My luck had certainly changed for the worse over the last year. Well, that wasn't quite true. Yes, I'd had to give up everything I owned that couldn't fit in a storage container that could be shoved under a bed. And I'd been kicked out of the graduate program at the University of Rainier. I'd never earn my Ph.D now in Environmental Anthropology. 

But I had met Jim, even if he had been the one to arrest me. He'd also been the one to save me. 

If not for Jim's claiming me as his guide, the court would have sentenced me to be a mindless drudge for the rest of my life. 

I gave a shudder. Even now, when I was protected from that fate, the very idea horrified me. 

I discerned a gentle inquiry at the back of my mind. Jim, sensing my sudden turmoil, was checking if I was okay.

I returned wordless reassurance that I was fine, and then I risked actually using our telepathy but for just a moment since I didn't want to distract him from testifying.

_“Sorry, I had a little soul-turbulence. The stabilizers have been engaged now, though. Are you done yet with court?”_

_“No. I have to be available for cross-questioning by the defense. You know what? I think I need to go out to listen to that new band tonight to wind down from my job pressure. Should be fun. Ah, got to go. Love you, Chief.”_

I grinned to myself. Jim made it a point to thumb his nose at my probation rules, when he could do it without getting me in trouble. I wasn't allowed to engage in any sort of social activities on my own. On the other hand, if _Jim_ decided he needed his guide with him to go to lectures, museums, and concerts, to help him keep his senses under control, well then, as his guide I was _required_ to do my job and accompany him. 

Jim's indulging me like that was sweet of him, although he always grumbled at me when I told him he was just a big lallapop – hard on the outside with a gooey, sweet center. 

I stopped my mind-wandering and settled down to analyze the data, looking for patterns, inconsistencies, or other anomalies to point out to Henri when he returned.

I didn't get too far along on my task, though, before my comm vibrated, interrupting me. 

I answered it and then shut down the slave. 

Time for me to play errand boy for Captain Banks.

xxx

I held the back of my hand up to the skimmer at Secure Conference Room 3's doorway and waited for it to recognize my tattooed ID. I hoped Captain Banks had remembered to add me to the skimmer's data banks. There must be something pretty confidential being planned in there, since this room had extra security features. 

The skimmer accepted me and the door was unlocked, then a holographic courtesy message appeared telling me I was free to enter. 

I opened the door as silently as I could and pushed the refreshment cart into the room. 

Everyone stopped talking, and I caught people looking at me as I arranged the sandwiches, snacks, and beverages on the side table.

This was a task I'd done a lot. People glancing at me and then dismissing me from their thoughts – well, I was used to it. I was a nobody, a bastard doing menial labor. I should have been practically invisible to the denizens of this room. But I wasn't. People were staring at me. Some were frowning, some were just... studying me.

I always kept my eyes down and moved quietly when I had this kind of work to perform. I didn't want my movements to interfere with the meeting. I was as silent this time as I had ever been, but they acted like there was a spotlight on me, showcasing my every motion. 

My flight or fight reflex was telling me to get the hell out of there. When you grow up the way I did, you learn to listen to those instincts. I headed for the door, leaving the cart by the table. The cafeteria could do without it for a while. 

I actually had my hand on the door when a sharp, male voice called out, “You. Boy. Bring me some kaffee and a pastry.”

Turning, I glanced at the table. There were eight people there, including Captain Banks. Eight pairs of eyes watching my every move.

I walked to the side table and filled a large mug with kaffee. Then I placed a sweet roll on a plate and added a stirrer, sweeteners, and creamers to sit in a neat little pile next to the treat.

I wasn't sure which of the men had made the request. Captain Banks nodded towards the man on his left, and I brought the order to him and set it down. 

He grabbed my wrist and turned my hand over to look at the symbol that told the world I was a bastard.

He let go, and I took a few steps towards the door before that same sharp voice barked at me to stand still. I pivoted enough to notice the dour look on his face and kept still. Leaning back in his chair, his eyes traveled up and down my body.

I kept my face expressionless. I didn't know what these people wanted, but I would keep my guard up. At least Captain Banks was here; he'd stop anything that might be dangerous. 

I did trust him on that. He'd showed me in the past that he would protect me. 

“Take the tie out of your hair.”

Now that was a strange request. If I was cornered somewhere on the street and ordered to do that, I'd be bracing myself to fight off a sexual assault.

I couldn't conceive of that happening here, in the heart of MIC. Not with the head guy present.

I did as he said and slid the hair tie into my pocket. My rambunctious curls, happy to be freed, fell around my face. 

“What's your name, boy.” Same man. 

“Blair Sandburg.” I kept my voice low and steady. 

“You're a damn criminal. You brought the Black Plague to New Rainier.”

I didn't confirm or deny his statement. I hadn't, but only Jim had believed me and even he thought I'd done it at first. Captain Banks had been convinced I was guilty of being involved in the Yana trade, but he'd agreed to my working with his detective and his department. Later, after he'd gotten to know me better, he'd told Jim that he'd changed his mind and decided I must have been innocent of the charges. 

Technically, I wasn't guilty. Ethically, I thought I did bear some responsibility. It had been my bird that had been used, although without my knowledge, to bring the plants from Quyllur to New Rainier. Iris, a girl who had caught my eye, and her brother had flown with me a few times from Quyllur to New Rainier. They'd been the drug runners. Still, I'd been careless with whom I'd associated and let have access to my bird. 

I wanted to make up for that carelessness, but I didn't believe I deserved the twenty-five year sentence I'd received. 

Captain Banks spoke up. “Sandburg, you can leave the room. Stay in the building and keep your comm active.”

I replied with a “Yes, sir,” and held my head high as I walked out of there. I was done with trying to be inconspicuous for those people. 

xxx

Silence fell over the room after I'd told Sandburg... Blair, to leave. The task force had wanted to see him, to judge him on various criteria. I hoped they had found him lacking, that the plan would be scuttled.

I didn't want Blair to go undercover, to be at the mercy of corrupt men and women. He wasn't a trained protector, even if he had completed the Academy courses. 

Larson, the Chief Special Agent from the IBI and the head of the task force, announced, “If I could have your attention. You've all seen Sandburg now. I'd like to hear your impressions.”

The other representatives of their agencies volunteered their thoughts.

“He's attractive.”

“Wary.”

“Controlled.”

“He's pretty, if you like them short and cute. That mouth is positively sinful. He'll be good bait. It doesn't matter if he's never been a cash boy because he won't be expected to act seductively. As long as he looks like he can follow directions enough to open his mouth or his legs, he'll be utilized.” 

“He was unobtrusive until we set off his alarms by staring at him. I think he'll do.”

“He's beautiful. I know women who'd pay a lot of credits to have hair like his, so rich with color and thick with curls. I'd say his sentinel is a lucky man to come home to that to bond with.”

“Like I told him, he's a criminal. But we can use him.”

None of these people cared about Blair. I did, and not just for Jim's sake. Yes, Blair had screwed up by getting inadvertently involved with the Yana trade, but he'd been young and had lived on the fringes of society. He'd bartered with those drug runners, but I believed him when he said he hadn't known about the plants hidden in his old cargo ship. 

I hadn't always thought that. The last few months had gone a long way towards changing my mind. Since Jim had claimed him, he'd been more than cooperative and gone far beyond what was expected of him. He'd saved Jim's life just weeks ago. I decided to make it clear that I was in his corner.

“Sandburg is one of my men. I want some assurances that this scheme won't end up with him brain-drained or dead. And a lawyer needs to represent his interests. His sentinel is his legal guardian and he'll need to sign off on Sandburg's involvement. Ellison is finishing up some court business at the moment. I suggest that we spend the time until he's freed up by going over the details of the mission, because Ellison will spot every potential screw-up when you explain the plan to him and Sandburg.”

“Ellison was an Orion's Hunter before joining the Protectors, correct, Captain Banks? He would have been well versed in tactics and covert missions. I think we need to look at his files, too. I understand that he and Sandburg finished up their certification courses recently. How did they do?” 

That question came from a judicial investigator, a woman with a sharp mind judging from her earlier comments.

“They had top scores in every category but their telepathy range is easily fifty times further than the norm. That aspect makes them the ideal sentinel and guide team for your purposes. The flip side is that because their bond is so intense any separation beyond three days and they'll be in bond withdrawal. You need to plan for that, if you expect to keep them alive.”

Larson said, “Banks, withdrawal from the bond doesn't mean a death sentence. There are drugs to help with the symptoms.”

“I'm not a sentinel expert,” I shot back. “But I talked with the experts who tested Ellison and Sandburg during their training at Bonaroo. They told me that if Ellison ever breaks his intense bond with Sandburg, he'd probably zone so badly that he'd go into a deep coma and die. Sandburg would spiral down into a serious depression with the most likely outcome psychosis and suicide. They're soul-bonded. When one dies, the other one does, too. So even if you think Sandburg is expendable, Ellison would be a casualty also.” 

Larson said, “Rest assured, Captain Banks. We have no intention of sending your men on a suicide mission.”

I wanted to believe him. I couldn't give that trust, though. During my stint in the space services and as a protector, I'd seen too many good men and women sacrificed to further an agenda. 

We spent the rest of the meeting breaking down the proposal and coming up with contingency plans. 

When I was notified that Ellison had completed his testimony and had left the holographic courtroom, I commed Blair and told him we'd had a spill and to bring a mop to clean it up.

Blair arrived and quietly entered the room prepared to clean up the non-existent mess and from the guarded blank look on his face, get the hell out. I'd seen that expression on his face before, the night that he'd been left at the mercy of his pervert of a probation officer -- when he'd thought I was leaving him there to let her molest him. 

“Sandburg, this is a task force and they have something to discuss with you and Ellison. I'd appreciate your cooperation; explanations will come later.”

His eyes flicked to mine, and then he nodded.

“All right. Take a seat. I'd like you to demonstrate your ability to communicate with Jim without his listening to you, or you using a comm. Use your telepathy and tell him I need him to come to this room immediately and not to tell anyone what he's doing.”

I glanced around the table. Rogers, the man who had ordered Blair to serve him kaffee, had voiced the most skepticism of Blair's and Jim's abilities.

“Rogers, give Sandburg a code phrase to tell Ellison. I know you'll demand the proof.”

The man frowned, then left his chair and walked over to Sandburg. He leaned down and whispered something to him. 

He said loudly, so we all could hear him, “Don't say anything and keep your hands on the table so I can make sure you're not using your comm. Contact him.”

Blair complied. He kept his mouth shut. Rogers stayed, leaning on Blair's chair, pushing into his personal space. I could have suggested to him that it would be prudent to move away from Blair, but I thought it would be more educational to let the task force see for themselves how a sentinel handled a perceived threat. 

The first thing Jim said when he walked through the door was, “The test words were 'Ancestor's Day means nothing to a bastard.' Now, you,” he pointed towards Rogers, “get away from him.” Jim's voice was cold, deadly. 

Rogers did, a speculative look on his face. 

Jim sat down next to Blair and glared at everyone. He looked pointedly at me. “Sir. Blair tells me that this is a task force meeting.” 

“Detective Ellison, Sandburg, let me introduce Chief Special Agent Larson, from the Interplanetary Bureau of Investigation. This is his show and he'll take it from here.”

Larson nodded to Simon and said, “Simply put, we need your help to break a human trafficking ring and connect it to a funding operation for a terrorist group.”

He motioned with his arm, indicating the rest of the task force. “My colleagues are top-level people from the IBI, NRIA, Justice, Security, D and O, and of course, you know Captain Banks. From this point on, he will be your handler. There's no need for introductions to the rest of the task force.”

Jim stiffened. “This is a need to know mission? Captain? Is this a voluntary assignment or am I being ordered to participate?”

“It's not voluntary for you, Detective. You're assigned as an operative, starting now. It's more complicated than that for your guide, and his participation is voluntary.” 

Larson caught my eye, and I ceded the conversation to him.

“Detective, I understand that legally you're Sandburg's guardian and it's your decision if he becomes a veiled informant. We're offering to reduce his sentence by a year, in return for his cooperation.”

Ellison regarded Sandburg for a moment, and then nodded at his guide. Sandburg spoke up, his tone polite but firm. “Since my usual duties include guiding Detective Ellison, I gather my involvement would be something outside of helping him control his senses. I also understand this task force's reluctance to name details unless I sign forms to become a veiled informant. But I need more information than what you've said.”

Ellison added, “Whatever it is you want Sandburg for, it's going to be his decision. I'll agree only if he says yes.”

Larson said, “And if he agrees and you don't? What then? Will you override him?”

Ellison shook his head. “Sandburg's my partner, regardless of the circumstances that made him my guide. I'm not taking away his free will in this matter. Let's hear your deal.”

Larson turned towards Sandburg. “Thanks to the results of several different investigations that originated within the agencies represented here, we now have a theory that ties the various threads together. What we need is proof, and we feel the best way to achieve that is to put you in place as bait. Once you're inside we'll use you to gather evidence and keep track as you go from point A to point B. You're a certified guide and Ellison is a certified sentinel. Your testimony will be valid for court, and in addition, we're prepared to give you some vision and hearing recording tech. We've got top people in this field available to do the implantation.”

“Why Blair? Nobody's going to hire him since he's a convict and a bastard, and your agencies, hell, even MIC, all have trained undercover people. What makes his situation fit this mission so well that you're giving your own people a pass?” 

Jim had come to the heart of it, and I wasn't looking forward to hearing his or Sandburg's reaction to the answer.

“Better to have the genuine article than try to pass off a fake one. Sandburg's a convicted criminal, on probation. That truth will hold up to any amount of scrutiny. He recently violated his probation, and we can use that to remand him back to court. Yes, I know his probation officer, Joel Taggart, recommended leniency and no further addition of Community Service time. He'll be overruled by a superior.”

A woman at the table made a graceful movement with her hand.

Larson acknowledged her gesture and continued. 

“We suspect that the judge who will hear the case is taking kickbacks. He's been sentencing bastards, and only bastards, to permanent mind-wiping and placement in a corporation facility that we believe has ties with a terrorist group. We also have intelligence that some of these mind-wiped bastard workers are being sold for sex. What we don't have is hard proof. Arresting the johns will only result in fines for them, and a scapegoated employee will take the blame for abuse of the mind-wiped. It will be passed off as an aberration, the fault of that employee. The corporation itself will remain untouched. At the most, they'd be given a modest fine. Then they'll go right back to making profits for the terrorist group. Unless we can document that the judge is receiving kickbacks, he's untouchable. It is within his range of judgment to sentence individuals to mind-wiping, so he can't be stopped without that proof.” 

“You're asking me to pretend to be mind-wiped and spy on this corporation from the inside? How would I pass the scans?” Blair asked, his voice sounding both worried and curious. 

“You'll pass because you won't be pretending. You'll be mind-wiped. Don't worry. It'll be a temporary condition. The corporation will check you in and confirm that you are, indeed, a mind-wiped convict laborer and ready for your new life of drudgery. They'll file your paperwork, and then you're a cog in the machine. All you have to do is to act mind-wiped after your treatment wears off, and we're prepared to give you some help with that. Deep hypno-treatment. You'll have the mannerisms and behavior of a mind-wiped person, but you'll be able to think for yourself.”

Blair was shaking his head. “What about Jim? He'll need to bond. Is it typical for the court to arrange some sort of visitation?”

The woman from the Justice department jumped in. “I don't believe the situation has ever come up before. I'd have to check the records, but knowing that particular judge, he would refuse any requests for court mandated visitation. He'd expect Detective Ellison to break the bond, find another guide. As a matter of fact, we're counting on the judge to deny visitation.”

I watched Sandburg and Ellison consider this, and from their expressions it looked as if the thoughts between them were hurtling back and forth faster than a ball in a sling-slong contest.

Blair sat up straighter. “A sentinel who's desperate to bond might be willing to sell out to the one holding his guide's leash. If a terrorist group is behind this scheme, they'd love to have a detective in MIC on their payroll. They'll offer Jim the chance to keep bonding with me as long as he keeps doing 'favors' for this group, and if he does then they'll have plenty of blackmail material to hold over his head to ensure his cooperation.”

I caught a couple of surprised looks from the others and decided to indulge myself. “Sandburg was a Ph.D candidate. He's quick and he's sharp. And let me make myself clear. I want him back in good shape after this mission.”

Larson said, “Absolutely. We need him to be able to testify at the trials. To be honest, though, this is a risky operation. We will do everything we can to make sure of his safety, but we can't promise guarantees. That's why we're offering to cut a year off his sentence.”

Jim spoke up, a hard edge to his voice, his expression stubborn. “Not a year. Ten years. And when this is over he's allowed to return to the Ph.D program at the University.”

Rogers pointed his finger at Sandburg. “I said it before and I'll say it again. He's a damn criminal. And if he's so bright, I'm sure he's considered that if he and Ellison won't cooperate, then he can still be brought up on probation violation charges in front of our crooked judge and be sentenced to be mind-wiped for real. Not a thing MIC or Ellison can do to stop it, if the Justice Department throws the book at him.”

Jim looked ready to explode, but Sandburg must have sent him a message that he'd handle Rogers. The man had tried to intimidate him earlier, but hadn't been able to rattle Sandburg. Well, I supposed he'd been dealing with that kind of attitude his whole life, having been born a bastard. 

Sandburg stood up and addressed Larson, nodding respectfully. “I'm aware of the consequences for not following the probation rules. I broke them deliberately; if I had to do it over, I'd still break them. Jim needed me. I tried to get help, but nobody listened. If I hadn't taken off on my own and persuaded Captain Banks to help me, Jim would have been killed or kidnapped off planet.”

He eyed Rogers, and that respectful attitude took a hike. “And yeah, I knew as soon as Chief Special Agent Larson explained about sending me to court for this scheme that you could hold that over my head. 

“So what?” He tilted his chin up defiantly. “You need me and Jim. You need us because we have incredible telepathy. You need me because, as you put it, I'm a convicted criminal already. I have the perfect cover because it's true. How many other guides with my level of telepathy and my background are waiting in the wings in case I say no?”

Jim scrutinized the task force and stood up next to Sandburg, then added, “The answer to my partner's question is, of course, none. And being a certified sentinel I could testify to that truth, based on my observations during this meeting. You prefer _certified_ people. That cuts down on your available pool right there. You're asking us to risk our lives and, for Blair, damage to his mind and his body. We want ten years in return. We're leaving now. Captain Banks can give us your answer.”

I said, mildly, “Ellison, why don't you use a secure comm and talk to that lawyer friend of yours, run this deal by him. If you and Sandburg accept the task force's offer, you might want him to look it over for... oh, loopholes, before the final agreement. And Sandburg, leave first and take the mop and bucket with you. We don't want to tip off any other blackmailed officers that you're involved with some hush-hush task force.”

Sandburg nodded and left, dragging his cleaning cart out with him. Ellison waited a few minutes, which he spent by looking hard at the other people in the room, and then he gave me a brief “Sir” and strode out of the room. 

As soon as Ellison was in the hall, Larson asked for opinions. Rogers, as expected, was ready to toss Sandburg back into court to be mind-wiped and suggested that the task force find another sentinel and guide pair.

The D and O guy countered that argument quickly. He'd done his research on sentinels and guides and explained that telepathy to the extent that Ellison and Sandburg had was a very rare talent, only manifesting in pairs that had soul-bonded as well as physically bonded. It had been one of the Drugs and Ordnance sentinels that had suggested to him that Ellison and Sandburg be tapped for this mission. That sentinel had seen their abilities during the recent training they'd all attended and knew that Sandburg had violated probation by that mad dash across restricted space to find Ellison. 

After that discussion, Larson took a straw vote. Everybody but Rogers said yes to the ten years clause. 

Larson decided to do it Sandburg's and Ellison's way. There was some further discussion on the final details of the plan, which would fall to me to co-ordinate with my men. This was likely the last full meeting of the task force until the operation had concluded. Larson dismissed the group, and I commed Jim to ask them to meet me at my house later that night. Oh, and to see if Mickey could make it. We'd play poker, I told Jim, since I wasn't using a secure comm. 

Tonight I'd give them and their lawyer the details if Sandburg agreed to the mission. 

 

xxx


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Returning my cleaning cart to the maintenance department, I told Micah, the supervisor, that I'd be with Jim the rest of the day. Then I hurried off to meet Jim at the secure comm room where earlier he'd sent his court testimony by holo-emitter. 

He was waiting for me by the door and gripped my arm when I reached him, both of us needing to feel connected physically. We avoided most displays of affection at the work, having no wish to feed our coworkers' speculation about bonding and our sex life. We kept our touches to pats on the back, or sometimes a casual arm slung around a shoulder, or in Jim's case, patting me on my cheeks. 

I could feel Jim's emotions – fear for me, anger at the disrespect I'd been shown, dread over being separated.

My emotions mirrored his. I didn't like this plan at all. And yet...

Once we went inside, Jim let me go after a swift hug. He went to the emitter panel and started pushing buttons.

He shot me a worried look, as he began comming Mickey. “Chief, you don't have to do this. We can run for the free territories.”

I crossed my arms and shook my head. “Don't you think that bunch upstairs hasn't already thought of that? I'm sure I've been tagged a high security risk, and if we even head towards your bird, we'll find ourselves in custody. Also, think about this: without the right codes to disable the beacon in my leg it could explode if it's removed illegally. I don't want to lose my leg. And even if we made it past the Hundred Worlds' boundaries, bounty hunters would go after me. And you, too, for aiding and abetting me. But Jim, you know I have to do it. I don't want to, but how can I turn my back on my fellow bastards?”

“I knew you'd say that. You'd volunteer for this mission without the sweet-root and stick approach.”

I grinned at him. “Yeah, I would. But they don't have to know that. I'll take the ten years deal. I'll be that much closer to freedom.”

Mickey, our lawyer, answered the comm, and Jim and I filled him in on the offer. He said he'd like to read the final agreement before Jim signed it for me. Mickey and Jim were old friends, and he'd figured out how Jim could petition the judge at my trial to claim me as his guide. Between the two of them, they'd saved me from being mind-wiped.

Once again I had to face the prospect of becoming mindless. I couldn't pretend that didn't terrify me. It did. The level of mind-wiping for convicts would leave me minus my personality and most of my intelligence. I would become a docile, happy little drone, working at whatever menial labor job assigned to me. Jim had been mind-wiped when he'd been saved from the attack on his ship by an old friend turned rogue. His mind had only been lightly touched, leaving him with no knowledge of who he was or why he was on the planet of Quyllur. 

He hadn't had his personality taken from him, like the court would have taken mine from me when I'd been convicted. 

Luckily, the Sho'nakan tribe had recognized Jim as a sentinel when his senses became hyperactive, and he'd been adopted by them. Many months later, he'd been identified by another Orion's Hunter and his mind had been restored. He never had remembered on his own how he'd been betrayed. Jim had been lucky. He'd been found while the mind-wipe could still be reversed.

And now I was being asked to trust that my mind would be protected from permanent damage. 

I stepped out of emitter range, afraid that my expression would give away my fear to Mickey. Jim, of course, would know. Soul bonding meant not ever being able to keep your emotions from your partner. 

I shivered, the thought of becoming a drudge, even for just a few days, leaving me feeling queasy and cold.

Jim sent me wordless feelings of love and support, but he couldn't hide from me how worried he was about this assignment. I sensed that anxiety centered on me being vulnerable, but he would be, too. Together, we were strong, able to resist forces that wanted to hurt us, apart, we would be like sticks taken out of a bundle and easily snapped.

He said his farewell to his old friend. We'd see him tonight at Captain Banks' house to finish the negotiations with the task force. 

I thought of Quyllur, its blue coastal waters and fecund jungles, and the shaman who had adopted me. Jim's kidnapping several weeks ago had put a delay on our plans to go home and visit Incacha and the Sho'nakan. While I wasn't on house arrest, my probation officer had suggested I keep a low profile for a while, and that included not going off world. I missed Quyllur, the last place that I'd been a free man.

Jim shut off the emitters and the image of Mickey, tall with black, wavy hair, faded out. Jim drew me close and wrapped me in his arms. I felt a rush of love for him, my partner, my sentinel.

We'd go to Simon's house tonight and learn the details of the solar-storm of trouble we'd agreed to navigate. 

xxx

 

While we waited for Mickey to show at Simon's house, Jim and I read over the agreement that Simon had accessed from a secure Justice Department site. 

In the document, the names of the terrorist group and the judge were not included, but I was named as a veiled informant, and that in return for my help, I would be granted a reprieve of ten years from my sentence _if_ my work as a veiled informant resulted in arrests. Without arrests, I would only be given a year's reprieve.

The Head of Justice had already signed it; once Jim had added his name, it would be legal. 

That would leave me with fourteen years still to serve. Jim diligently kept checking for any leads in finding the actual Yana drug runners, but for this past year there had been no new clues. The supply of Yana on the street had dried up, too. 

At least no new victims would find themselves hopelessly psychotic or dead from the Black Plague. 

I was restless, and after I'd inspected Simon's bookshelves and picked up each of the fascinating little statues from his angel collection to study closely, he'd had enough.

“Sandburg, those are antiques from my ancestors and I don't want you breaking them. Go sit your ass down at the kitchen table. We're playing poker until Renardo can get here.”

So we played poker, mostly Five Card Space 'Em, although it was hopeless to bluff with Jim, and from his grumblings he felt the same way about me. Still, it kept us occupied. 

When Mickey came by two hours later, I'd managed to win a nice pile of change from Simon. According to the law, anything I earned had to be turned over to Jim, so when the doorbell rang I pushed my earnings over to his side of the table.

Simon looked surprised, then I saw understanding change his expression. 

He didn't say anything, though, and I appreciated that. It was nice sometimes, to have the illusion of living a normal life.

Mickey handed Jim a bottle when Simon ushered him into his kitchen.

“After our conversation earlier this afternoon, I figured we'd need this,” Mickey said, with an enigmatic smile.

Jim held it up so the clear blue color was visible to all of us. It was the most popular alcoholic beverage from Quyllur. 

Simon shook his head ruefully, and Jim managed a quirky smile.

I must have looked lost because Jim said, “Mickey's making a little joke by bringing Agrasa here tonight. Jack, Simon, Mickey and I emptied at least one bottle when we plotted to make you my guide.”

To Mickey, he said, “I don't know if any amount of alcohol, even Blue Heaven, can make this any easier. Blair will be in danger every moment that he's undercover.”

Mickey glanced at me, so I said, “I know that, but I have to do this. Those people being unfairly sent to be mind-wiped need us. You know, as bastards, we generally don't have many people who will stick up for us, so it might be cynical of me, but I wonder if there would even be an investigation if there wasn't the tie to the terrorist group. And besides, I'm pretty sure that if I don't do it voluntarily, I'll be sent to that judge for violating my probation anyway, out of spite, and I'll end up being mind-wiped with no chance of reversing it. That guy on the task force, uh, Rogers, was as mean as a gilly-toad, and he'd arrange it just to see me get what he thinks I deserve.”

“I'm assuming that you've got your house protected, Simon?” Simon nodded. No one would be hearing this conversation. Jim had swept the place, and it was clear of listening devices. Also, there were white noise generators set up around the perimeter of Simon's property.

Jim rummaged in the cupboards for glasses, and Mickey placed his slave on the table. 

“Let's take a look,” he said.

xxx

I got up from the table, cards pushed to the side and long forgotten, and stood by the window, looking up at New Rainier's small moon. It was late, and we all were tired. 

Mickey had left. He'd shaken my hand and told me that when this was over we should all get together for a better reason. 

“Blair, any other questions? Are you clear about this plan?” Simon had explained what would happen now that Jim had signed for me. 

I turned to face Simon where he and Jim were sitting at the table and held my thumb out, touched it. Step one.

“A doctor that's been vouched for will be assigned to do mind-wiping at the justice center where I have to go to court. He'll be there at least a week or two before my name is added to Judge Hannity's docket.”

Simon nodded, reached across the table and poured himself two fingers of Blue Heaven. 

I touched my index finger. “Next, Joel Taggart will be sent to some god forsaken planet as a consultant to train other Community Service officers in using his techniques for working with at-risk young people on probation.”

I was really too old to be on his caseload. Usually, he worked with kids, but since legally I was a minor again, Community Service had arranged it. Joel Taggart was a good person, and he'd been fair with me. It was because he was a decent man that he'd have to be distracted and sent out of the way. Otherwise he'd raise holy hell within Community Service when his resolution to my violation of probation was overridden by a supervisor. They couldn't afford to have that happen. I was supposed to be just another bastard convict, somebody nobody cared about or paid any attention to for any reason.

Simon added, “By the time Taggart hears about this you'll be mind-wiped and already in place at Crawford Industries. We're not sure if you'll be assigned to a farm or a factory, or work as domestic day help. All the workers are housed in the same set of dormitories, though.” 

Jim frowned. “Is there anybody in place at the dormitories for back-up?”

Simon said, “It's being considered. It would be best to use somebody with no connection to any of the agencies here.”

I had a thought. “I have a suggestion, Simon. Megan Connor. She's a friend; we trained together at the Academy. She's an officer on Uluru, and that's about as far from Cascade as you can find. I trust her.”

Simon finished off his drink, got up and stretched and brought his cup to the sink. I could tell he was thinking about my suggestion. “I'll check with Larson. The IBI has the tech we'll need to build her cover. We'll have to doctor her records and give her a false code tattoo. I'll contact her in the morning, see if she's willing to come. We have an officer exchange program with Uluru, and I can swap her for somebody who wants to live on the back-end of the Hundred Worlds.” 

“Uluru is a fascinating place to visit. The beaches, the Great Outback, and the history of the colonists is--”

“Fascinating. Let's stick to going over our strategy, okay? I'm tired, and you both must be, too.” Simon was a tad on the cranky side, so I finished naming the steps.

“Okay, the next step is for me to go to court and then we'll see if Judge Hannity takes the bait. If he does and sentences me, then I get the temporary mind-wipe, but first I'll have the deep hypno-session so I'll act mind-wiped after the temp job wears off and my brain returns to normal. I'll also have that recording chip implanted. As you've explained, Simon, it will copy everything that I see and hear, if I tell my brain to record, but it won't be recognized as a listening device or camera since my own eyes and ears will function as the camera and listening device. How does that work, exactly?”

Simon raised his eyebrows. “Do I look like a scientific genius to you, Blair? I'll give you permission to go bug the IBI's scientists to get your answers after this mission, but for now, we only need to know that it's tech that has been verified to work without major side effects and that the recordings are allowable in court.”

Blair narrowed his eyes. “No major side effects, okay. What about minor ones?” 

“You might get headaches sometimes,” Simon admitted.

“Once I'm mind-wiped enough to pass the scanners, then I'm sent off to the Crawford Industries intake center. I get processed in, and they double-check my head. And they won't find the chip? Are we sure about that?”

“Crawford is a cheap son-of-a-space-whore, and we've verified that the tech he uses is old and a bottom line model. It's just not sophisticated enough to catch the chip.” 

Jim got up and stepped behind me so that his arms were around my waist. I relaxed against him, just a little. “And while Blair is being worked on and taken to the intake center, I'll be pounding on doors for permission to continue bonding with him. I'll start with Crawford himself. I don't want some lower level manager to feel sorry for me and approve the bonding and keep it from getting to Kincaid's ear. The Sunrise Patriots will jump at the chance to have me spy for them so I can keep bonding.”

Jim tightened his arms a little more around me. “Once Jim's approved for bonding sessions, then he'll meet regularly with me. If I get picked to be trafficked for sex, then somebody from MIC or one of the other task force agencies will be in place as a customer. I'll record the payment, the turning me over for sex, but we won't arrest Crawford yet, not until I've had a chance to snoop around and find evidence of the kickbacks. We want proof that the money Crawford is making from the bastards sent to him is going straight to Kincaid's terrorists. Nobody will expect a mind-wiped convict of anything. Even if I'm caught somewhere I shouldn't be at, I'll just act all confused and lost.”

Jim said, “And once Blair has enough proof, we get him out of there and arrest the players. The D and O has the muscle to handle the Sunrise Patriots. They're one of the crazier bunch of fanatics, with their propaganda of doing away with the bastard class. Hell, if they had their way, any child bastard-born or not claimed by both upper class parents would be sterilized and used as slave labor.”

“We got that from informants, but to the public Kincaid doesn't voice his more extreme views. But let him sway the upper classes into supporting limiting bastards' rights and he'll voice his views on genocide,” Simon added.

I said softly, “There's an ancient saying. 'First they condemned those not like me, and I said nothing. When they condemned me, there was no one left to protest.' Kincaid will not stop at getting rid of bastards. He'll come for the common class next, and so on.”

I grimaced. “It's no wonder Kincaid and Crawford decided to prey on bastards within the court system. If you analyze the data, it's clear that bastards receive more and harsher punishment for the same crimes committed by other classes. I wonder if other judges are in their pockets. Really, every judge's records need to be audited for this kind of prejudice.”

Simon sighed. “The Justice department is going to do just that, but not until this operation is completed. They're afraid, and I agree, that a large-scale investigation will tip Kincaid off and he'll vanish to some fringe world again. We've been looking for him for years. The Sunrise Patriots didn't take responsibility for those bombings of bastard schools and the agencies dedicated to helping the bastard class, but we know they were behind them. We just haven't proved it to the point where we could arrest the Patriots. Kincaid and his fanatics are quick to praise the actions of the 'heroes' who did the bombings, though. Hell, they even publicly thanked Michael Smith's assassin.”

I remembered those incidents, and I'd actually met Michael. My mom and I had been introduced to him, and he'd given me hope that I, too, could have an education and a career, despite being a bastard. He'd become the Dean of Education at the University of Rainier. He'd been found one morning, tortured and left for dead, hands nailed to the door of his office like the ancient religion of Christianity's Jesus. I'd grieved when he'd died from his wounds.

Despite the personal risks to me, the chance to take down that hateful group of supremacists would justify the danger.

I could feel Jim silently agreeing with me. 

Out loud, to Simon, he said, “When I'm not with Blair I'll be listening to him when possible and checking in with him telepathically. The dormitories and factories are shielded from electronic listening, but that won't stop me. Maybe I should be Connor's contact. We could pretend to be married and find a place fairly close to Crawford's complex.”

I choked a little. Jim and Megan pretending to be married – that was... wow. They were friends, but they'd developed a sort of competition mind-set. I bet myself that they'd start bickering before Megan had even unpacked her bags, if she was willing to come help us, that is. 

I sighed. I was tired and longed to go home. We were committed to this lunacy now, and it seemed like the task force had covered all contingencies. 

I hoped. “Simon, Yogi the Wise once said, 'what gets us into trouble isn't what we don't know, it's what we know for sure that just ain't so.' All we can do at this point is keep our wits about us and be ready to improvise if needed. Jim and I will see you tomorrow.”

Simon shook his head. “Take the day off. Practice your telepathy. I'll see you the day after tomorrow.”

Jim thanked him and grabbed the half-full bottle of Agrasa. We made our way outside, and Jim said, “Heads up, Blair. Daryl's coming.”

Oh, wonderful. I hoped the evening wouldn't end with Simon's son trying to take a swing at me again. He knew about my Yana conviction and had been very vocal about how I should have been punished more severely. His friend had lost his mind to Yana, so I didn't blame him, but I didn't want to deal with his anger tonight.

We hurried and made it to Jim's run-down classic before Daryl pulled up in his flashy new vehicle. He got out and stared hard at me as we slowly passed him. I was glad to avoid another conflict.

I glanced at Jim, and he smiled, with a quirky tilt of his lips. 

“Yogi the Wise, Chief?”

“Uh-huh. There's a whole religion devoted to the ancient Earth sport of baseball, and Yogi was one of their prophets.”

Jim chuckled, and then I was laughing, too, glad to live in the moment and enjoy being with my lover.

We had some tough times coming up but for the rest of tonight and tomorrow, we'd have just me and Jim time. We'd make the best of it.

xxx


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

Two weeks later, two burly court enforcers served Blair with a summons while he was working at MIC, and he was indeed listed on Judge Hannity's docket. They took him down to the bail bonds center, a grim place, the gray of its walls a match for the miserable expressions on the prisoners I saw dragged along by enforcers. In order for Blair to stay out of lock-up until his court date, I had to post a hefty amount of credits. 

The clerk who handled the transaction was genuinely surprised that I was willing to do this for a bastard. 

“Are you sure, Detective Ellison? These bastards can't be trusted. Most of them are dead afraid of coming to court and they try to run. It's why we automatically take them into custody when they're served.”

“Just turn him loose,” I said sourly. “You got anything more for me to sign?” There was, of course. Finally, Blair was released to me, and we went to my vehicle. I started my sweetheart up and headed for our loft apartment.

After fastening the safety belt, Blair slumped against the seat. “Man, I am so craving a shower. I hate being in lock-up; the smell of the place settles into your skin.” Blair sounded so pragmatic, but I knew he was feeling unsettled. 

“Want me to scrub your back?” I waggled my eyebrows at him, hoping to make him laugh and relax.

Blair did laugh, but it wasn't a relaxed sound. “Sure. Did you know that only bastards are routinely picked up when they get a court summons? Common class members only have to put up bail if it's a capital crime – murder, rape, serious assault. And your class, and the superior class, don't have to do even that.”

I'd learned that information when I became a protector, but I hadn't really thought about what it meant in terms of prejudice against a whole group of people. Even though I didn't consider myself a man who would discriminate against others, thanks to my partner I had come to realize that I did have 'ingrained expectations relating to the class structure New Rainier culture was based upon.' Or in my own words and not Blair's, I accepted the privileges and restrictions granted to each class, since I'd grown up with it that way. Blair was quite willing to discuss those ingrained expectations when they surfaced. I told him he should talk to Simon about doing sensitivity training with MIC, but he said he wouldn't be listened to if he did. He'd stick to educating one person at a time.

He'd grinned as he'd said that, and I knew he meant me. I'd given him a noogie, but I also told him to call me out whenever I showed my ignorance.

He sighed and told his window to open. It obligingly rolled down, letting in fresh air, moist with the earlier morning shower. 

“I don't want you to choke because I stink. And it feels good, you know, to breathe free air after being stuck in a holding cell.” He lifted his hand and let it trail outside the window, feeling the movement of air against his fingers.

I glanced at him. “Who gave you a hard time in there? I could feel that you were annoyed, but not afraid. I listened in but didn't catch what it was about.”

“One of the guards. He offered to send me to the rec area if I gave him a blow job.”

“Son-of-a-space-whore! Did you get his name or badge ID?” 

“Yeah, I did. And hey, slow down. We need to talk about this stuff.”

“What stuff?” I eased up so that we were under the speed limit. 

“Jim, I might have to do sexual acts to maintain my cover. I know that other undercover people will be in place to pick me for their cash boy for the night, but what if I'm propositioned by the staff, or assaulted? How much should I put up with, how much can you tolerate without grabbing your weapon and breaking down the gates?” Blair's emotions were conflicted.

I felt murderous just thinking about someone taking advantage of him when he would appear as innocent and as naïve as a child.

“Connor's going to be there; she can threaten to break heads if anybody picks on her favorite charge.” Connor lived to kick the ass of deserving thugs and creeps. 

“She won't be there all the time, and she won't be at my job assignment. If I'm given any kind of choice I'll say no to sexual advances, but Jim, I think I'm willing to do what I'm asked if I can't wiggle out of it. Can you deal with that? If it happens, that is? Maybe nobody will notice me at all.”

Blair not being noticed was unlikely. He was beautiful, although I knew from the bond we shared that he didn't believe he was that attractive. If anything, he thought his personality was more of a draw to people. Inside Crawford's complex, his personality would be muted. Predators would look at him, though, and want him. Beautiful and powerless, the combination would be irresistible to them. 

“Blair, I know you want to do the right thing, and you're willing to lay your body on the line. But I don't want you hurt, and I'm not sure removing ten years from your sentence is worth that. To be honest, I'm going to hate every moment you're so vulnerable, but if you can stand it, I can. We'll need a safe word that you can say out loud, if not telepathically, and if I hear it, I'm sending in the troops, along with me. Even if we haven't got enough evidence to charge any of those assholes.”

“Holy ancestors, I hope it won't come to that. I'd love to see the judge and Crawford and Kincaid get convicted. You could track down anybody who leaves traces of bodily fluids on me, but we can't tell my handlers that you'll go feral on anybody's ass who has sex with me; we want me to be picked to whore for them. I don't know. If you get approved to bond with me, then maybe you can make a deal that my ass is only available to the customers and you and not to the staff? That might help.”

He gazed at me so seriously and I felt his deep concern and caution. “If I'm raped, Jim, it'll be bad, but with your help I can make it. If you hold me responsible because I didn't use the safe word in time, or not at all, then I'll fall apart. I need you on my side, not angry at me. Please, Jim. I don't know if I can do this if you're not going to support me through the bad shit.”

I pulled the vehicle over and unfastened his belt and hauled him over to me so he was on my lap. I buried my face in his curls and breathed in his scent.

I made a vow to myself that I would never make him think I thought he had brought any abuse on himself, if he was assaulted.

Blair experienced my resolution through our bond and heaved a great sigh. 

He kissed me then, and slid off my lap. “I'll use 'Quyllur' for my safe word.”

He had been accepted by the Sho'nakan on Quyllur, not judged by his birth status. His adoptive father had given him a family and a place in the tribe. No wonder he associated being there with feeling safe.

I started Sweetheart up, and we drove the rest of the way home in silence. 

Words weren't needed. 

xxx

The night before we had to be in court was bitter-sweet for both of us. Neither of us wanted to make small talk or watch holos. As the sky darkened outside, Blair took my hand and we went upstairs. We undressed slowly, stopping to touch a cheek, a shoulder, or run a hand down a bare belly.

Sex between us usually involved laughter. We never took ourselves too seriously, and Blair could become downright silly in bed. And mischievous. The night he'd made me promise to turn down my senses and then drizzled dark sugar-sap all over my chest and dick came to mind. 

Blair wasn't smiling this night. He was intense, touching me as if he was storing up sense memories of what my body felt like. When he kissed me, he did it reverently, and when he fucked me he was tender and kept our soul bond wide open; he delighted in every jolt of my pleasure from his touch, and then he would make it that much better. 

Sex segued into bonding and I could smell the pheromones as they settled on our bodies, sating our mutual addiction. Our orgasms were strong and left us drowsing in each other's arms.

After a while, Blair slipped out of bed and went downstairs. He made his ablutions and came upstairs with a basin and a washcloth and towel. 

The water was hot and fragrant with the oil of the Qellu T'iki plant. Blair liked to use it because it reminded him of Quyllur. Never saying a word, but letting me feel how much he loved me, he dipped the cloth into the water and pressed it against my skin, removing the sweat and semen from my body. When he had completed this ritual, he handed me the towel and I sat up and dried myself. 

I was honored by Blair's careful attentions. I tossed the towel aside and said telepathically in the language of the Sho'nakan, “Sunqu. I would offer you shelter.” I smiled at him and opened my arms, widened my legs so that he could nestle against me if he so wished. 

He stared at me and then crawled across the bed, his long hair loose around his face. I expected him to turn so that he was facing the world with me at his back for support.

But he didn't position himself that way at all. I let myself sink into experiencing his emotions, fully opening myself to him.

He wished for comfort, to hide away for a while from the world. He'd be forced to face so much humiliation and danger when he was sent to Crawford Industries. 

He desired a respite, a time for me and him, alone in our own place in the universe.

He slid his legs under my knees, facing me. His eyes riveted on mine and he let me see how much he was afraid. It wasn't just the danger from going undercover. He was also terrified that something would go wrong with the mind-wiping procedure. More than either of those fears, his greatest concern was that this covert operation would damage our relationship. 

I thought I'd laid that last fear to rest.

Mind to mind, I spoke to him. “Blair, Sunqu. I can't tell you not to have those fears about us, but to me they're groundless. I will not reject you if you are hurt; I will cherish you. Let it go, okay? I love you, and that's not going to change.”

Blair nodded solemnly and rested his forehead against my chest. I wrapped my legs loosely around his body and let my arms encircle him. I didn't cage him; he could slip out from this embrace easily, but I sensed from him that he didn't want to do that. 

We stayed that way for a very long time in the dark, and I hoped that the comfort and protection from this rite of love would sustain him through the difficult days ahead.

xxx

 

Judge Hannity made a disapproving sound as Blair was called to the front of the courtroom. 

Once there, Blair's code was copied into court records and his name and class were announced, as well as the fact that he was currently serving a twenty-five year sentence as a guide to Detective James Joseph Ellison, sentinel. 

The charge that Blair Sandburg had violated his probation and had been remanded here for the court's consideration was also read into the record by the D.A. 

In less than twenty minutes, it was all over. 

Blair's public defender lawyer made a cursory attempt to have the charges dropped due to extenuating circumstances. But even though Blair's actions had resulted in my life being saved, and I was called to testify to that effect, it had no bearing on the judge's decision. 

He re-instated Blair's original sentence of twenty-five years of mandatory labor and ordered him to be mind-wiped but sent to Crawford Industries, instead of the original placement with Cyclops Industries. 

Blair's lawyer asked for visitation, so that I could bond and avoid withdrawal. The judge looked at Blair with contempt, and then addressed me.

“Detective Ellison, your request for court-ordered visitation for bonding or any other purpose is denied. I advise you to find a more suitable guide.”

Blair appeared stoic, but I could feel his trepidation, even though this was what we had expected. I sent assurances flying to him through our soul bond. If Crawford and his Sun Patriot cronies refused to let us bond, then he'd be pulled out after five or six days. 

I wasn't sitting quietly like Blair was, head held high. I made a loud protest and only subsided when the judge threatened me with contempt of court. 

It didn't take much acting ability on my part to look stricken when the court enforcers pulled Blair towards the exit behind the judge's platform.

Blair turned around right before he was shoved through the door, and he locked eyes with me. Then he blew me a kiss right before the door was shut. 

The judge saw him do it, and his handsome face darkened. All of us in the courtroom were treated to a diatribe on the low qualities of the bastard class. 

I walked out in the middle of his ranting. I could still hear Blair's heart beating fast, and I listened as he was placed in a cell with the other poor bastards Judge Hannity had condemned this morning. Their crimes had all been petty, except for a woman who had rolled a john and left him for dead. Most of the people on the docket had been bastards, and all the others who weren't hadn't received anything worse than a slap on the wrist. The exception had been two old bastard men: one who could barely breathe anymore, one with the shaking disease. They'd be dead within a couple of months, I thought. Their charges were dropped. Hannity's deal must have been for bastards who were capable of working.

No wonder the Justice Department had noticed Hannity's behavior; it was so blatantly slanted against the bastard class. 

I was preoccupied with how Blair was doing and almost didn't notice the tall, dark-skinned boy waiting outside the courtroom. Simon's kid. I was pretty sure I knew why he was here, and I didn't want to deal with his misguided feelings.

He started calling my name, and I glared at him as I strode past. When I kept ignoring him he began dogging my steps. Finally, exasperated, I turned around.

“Did it feel good to see Blair lose everything, Daryl? How in the Hundred Worlds did you even know he had to be here today? Going to go home and celebrate? Your father won't join you. It took a while but he finally believed Blair when he said he hadn't run Yana.”

I tried to step around him, but he caught my arm. I tried to shake him loose, but he wasn't making it easy.

“You're better off without him, Detective Ellison. He told me himself that he'd made mistakes, and he's just getting what he deserves. I'm glad he's going to lose his mind. My friend lost his and it was all Sandburg's fault. I hate him, the lousy bastard.”

I broke free and stepped away from him. If he kept pushing at me, I would do something I would regret. Simon was my friend and Daryl was his son. And he was just a punk kid who'd been hurt by that damned drug.

But I wasn't going to let him say shit about Blair. 

“Blair feels responsible for Yana coming to New Rainier because he's a decent man, but he didn't do anything wrong. What he did was trust that a girl and her brother were who they said they were, and he gave them passage on his bird in return for the brother doing some repair work on it. He didn't know that the brother altered the hold to secretly carry the plants that are made into Yana. He didn't know. He was duped, but he thinks he should have been more careful, less trusting, that he shouldn't have bartered with them. He feels responsible, but he wasn't. He wasn't, Daryl, and from now on you should just stay away from me because I doubt I can hold my temper if you keep accusing him when he's innocent. Sentinel, remember? I _know_ when someone's lying.”

I left him gaping at me and headed for my vehicle. While Blair was waiting to be sent for mind-wiping, I'd be meeting with Connor, my new wife.

xxx


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

“Jimbo.” Connor, tall and grinning fiercely, let me in the door and then punched me on the arm. Her normally auburn hair had been dyed a dull brown. She was still a good-looking woman, despite the hack job inflicted on her hair, and once I might have let myself feel an attraction for her. Before I'd met Blair, if I did go for a woman, they had almost always been tall red-heads. We'd have crashed and burned in record time, though. 

She never bickered with Blair the way she did with me, although she insisted on calling him “Sandy.” When they'd trained together at the Academy she'd tried to keep him under her wing, but Blair had proved he was capable of fighting his own battles. 

I'd appreciated her looking out for him, though, and by end of their Academy training we were all good friends.

Now if we could only get her to stop calling me “Jimbo” and Blair, “Sandy.” 

I scanned the shabby little place she would be staying at when she wasn't being a lowly hired caretaker for Crawford Industries. 

“We should take a stroll down the street, let the nosy neighbors see my husband so they won't be calling the protectors when you show up on the doorstep in the middle of the night.” She'd started to grin again when the word “husband” had left her lips. It was an amusing concept. Megan Connor and I wouldn't have lasted two weeks as a married couple. We were great friends, but she enjoyed throwing barbs at me, and I liked competing against her too much for a marriage relationship to have ever worked.

“Yes, dear,” I said, deadpan.

She punched me in the arm again, and I winced. Connor hit hard. 

Grumbling, I suggested that maybe we should introduce ourselves around in a more believable fashion. We could have an argument out front on the tiny patch of grass and establish our marriage credentials that way. 

Connor snickered and offered me her arm. I took it and we stepped outside and walked slowly down the street, waving at the various folks who were sitting on their porches or playing with their dogs or watching their kids play.

This little neighborhood was close enough to where Blair would be living that I could easily reach him by telepathy. If I exerted myself and discarded the sounds of the industrial machinery, I could distinguish the factory workers chatting or singing.

Connor poked me. We had crossed the street to meander back up to our little domain of bliss, and unless there was a sentinel living in this shabby area, nobody could hear us. 

“What's going on with Sandy right now?” She had been hiding it pretty well, but I knew from her scent that she was anxious. 

I had been aware all along of Blair's emotional state. He was nervous and worried but was handling it okay.

I spoke to him, told him Connor said hi, and asked where he was. 

_”I'm still in the holding cell at the justice center.”_

I took a quick moment and passed that along to Connor as we headed to our new domicile. She had to get ready for her shift as a caretaker, and I had my own errand to run. 

After we were in the house, Connor headed into the bathroom to take on the persona of her new cover. The NRIA techs had outfitted her with a false code. It wouldn't pass muster with a high level skimmer, but when she held her tattooed hand up to Crawford Industries' cheap model, it would register her as Meg Cook, middle common class member and a recent immigrant from Uluru. Connor had a fairly strong accent, so that had been kept the same. Blair always did say that the best lies were built around the truth. 

Well, it was no lie to say that I was grateful to Connor for leaving her home and coming to help us. Blair would have someone on the inside who would stomp into the ground anyone who tried to hurt him.

I liked that about her.

xxx

Blair was still in the holding cell when I checked in with him later. I asked him what instructions he'd been given. 

_”They told us that after they'd compiled our records we would be walked to the other side of the building where the medical facilities are located. One stop shopping for Crawford Industries. Condemn us, make us into docile, dumb workers, and then package us up in coveralls and ship us to our new home. We'll work until our sentences are over and then some social worker will decide if we continue working there for our board and a pittance or if we can be sent to a relative's care. Legally, they can't just dump us in the street, but I bet they get around that all the time. I wonder what the average life expectancy is for a mind-wiped worker?”_

I didn't like his use of “us” and “we.” _“Don't identify too much with your fellow workers. You're not staying there and you won't be incapacitated and unable to take care of yourself.”_

 _”Remember when Joel Taggart had me write that paper comparing our justice system with ancient Earth's way of handling their criminal population? I don't know if it would be better to be mind-wiped or have my faculties intact for the whole twenty-five years and experience the crawl of time and the danger of assaults and being raped. At least if I was mindless, I'd be in a happy sort of daze, and if I was raped I might not even realize what had happened to me. But I wouldn't be_ me! _I won't be me for the next couple of days. What if I end up with bastard's luck and the mind-wipe is permanent? Jim, you don't have to keep me if that happens. Just stick me in a home and get on with your life. I'll understand, I promise.”_

_“Blair, don't work yourself up into a terror attack. Don't bring attention on yourself that way. We've got people in place at the justice center and they'll make sure you're safe. And I would never turn you away for any reason. After I leave Connor's place I'm going to go and confront Crawford about permission to see you. Connor will be there when you arrive tonight at the dormitory. As a new hire, she gets the new arrivals. I know you feel alone right now, but we've got your back. Do you want to talk about something else? Having a distraction might be a good idea. Why don't you tell me about the plant teachers on Quyllur? What illness do they help and which ones have the potential to be used for new medicines?”_

I had the sense that Blair was chuckling at me. _“Man, you're asking me to babble about my research? This is a golden opportunity. Usually when I start talking about this stuff, you start snoring.”_

 _”Make the most of it, junior.”_ If it would help Blair to not panic, I'd listen to him recite anything he wanted. 

_”Okay. I don't want us to get too tired from using our telepathy, but for a little while, I think I need to hear your voice in my head. So. How about telling me about your experiences with the plant-teachers Incacha taught me help wounds to heal cleanly? Did you ever use the one with the bright blue flowers that smelled so bad?”_

We talked for a while until I was ready to leave to go to Crawford's office. He was calmer when we said goodbye, and I made a promise to myself that when this was over, we were going to go to Quyllur for at least a month. 

 

xxx

 

The office manager of Crawford Industries, a short self-important watch dog, refused to let me talk to his boss. I wasn't surprised. I'd be showing up on Crawford's home doorstep tonight to plead my case. I did leave a voice message. I was assured that Mr. Crawford would certainly give it his full consideration.

That was a load of dung, but I pretended that his words mollified me. 

I was restless and with both Blair and Connor out of my orbit for now, I decided to check in at work. I had other cases I was working on, and it would help me to pass the time. 

There was no way I would be allowed into the Southside Justice Center's off-limits facilities to check on my partner, but maybe Simon had heard from the operatives assigned there to protect Blair.

Simon called out to enter his office when I knocked on the door, and he rose when I came to stand in front of his desk.

He moved to my side and laid a hand on my shoulder.

“Jim, how are you holding up?”

I shrugged a little. “I don't need to bond yet, but I, uh, I feel unsettled. Have you gotten any reports on how he's doing? I've used telepathy to keep in touch and he's still waiting to get processed.”

“Stop worrying, Detective. We've got eyes on him. He's all right. He's been doing a lot of talking with the other men in his cell, listening to their fears and trying to help them adjust.” Simon let go of my shoulder after one last strong squeeze. 

I ran my hand through my hair. “He's a good kid, Simon. I'm not surprised he's reaching out to those other poor bastards. He's a master at hiding his own emotions, though. He's pretty apprehensive about the mind-wiping.”

Simon nodded, and my eye fell upon a 3-D holo of Simon and his son. I winced, remembering my run-in with Daryl earlier today. Might as well let Simon know about it. 

“Ummm, Captain?” Simon looked alert. “I got a little rough with Daryl this morning. He showed up at court to watch Blair's sentencing and said some vindictive stuff. Probably it would be better if Blair and I didn't come over for a while. I don't want to make it any more awkward for you.”

“And you don't want to take a chance you'd take a swing at my son.” Banks scrubbed at his mouth with one hand. “Daryl's stubborn. And he's grieving for his friend. I've told him that after considering everything, I don't think that Sandburg was guilty. But you just hold tight to your temper and I'll tell Daryl to keep his opinions to himself, because I still expect you and Blair to come over for poker. I actually think that if Daryl stops blaming Blair, that the two of them would get along pretty well. I wouldn't mind seeing some of Sandburg's work ethic rub off on my son. His mother tends to spoil the boy. If he put a little more work into his studies, he could get into a good school, have a better career than me. Not that I haven't done so badly for someone born in the common class. At least I've been able to raise Daryl's status.”

Simon walked over to his personal kaffee machine, filled a cup, and handed it to me. There was no need to ask if I wanted one. We were both protectors, after all. He filled a mug for himself, too. It smelled wonderful.

“Daryl was here last week waiting for me to finish up a meeting, and he must have overheard someone talking about Sandburg's upcoming court case. There were a lot of people this morning who were upset about the news that Blair would be mind-wiped. That boy's got a way of getting people to like him.”

I gulped the kaffee gratefully. “Yeah, he does. At first, when I was investigating him, I thought maybe it was just a survival skill he'd picked up, and maybe that is part of it, but he's genuinely interested in people and what makes them tick. When he talks to someone, he shows them respect. Well, he does if they deserve it. He's fully capable of taking on bullies and cutting them down to size.” 

I took a moment and opened myself to our bond, letting Blair's emotions fill me. He was becoming impatient and in the background his fears would surge and then recede, a constant wave of motion. I had no idea how things would change once he'd been mind-wiped. Would I feel the real Blair, or the artificial contentedness the mind-wiped showed to others?

Simon waved me to a chair and sat down at his desk. I filled him in on Crawford and that I'd be at the guy's door tonight. I mentioned that I might have to wave my badge around to get his attention, in case there was any flack about it. 

After I'd sat for a while, brooding, Simon asked, “How about a cup of kaffee to take with you?” I got the message that Simon had work to do and told him that I had to comm a few lowlifes to get some information for the Masters and Lee cases.

I took the kaffee with me and settled down at my own desk. I could use the distraction, at any rate.

Finally, several hours later. Blair telepathically spoke, sounding casual, but I knew how he was feeling. _”They've come for me, Jim. Wish me luck.”_

I did, and hoped like hell it wouldn't end up to be bastard's luck.

xxx

“Relax,” said the bald, short, heavy-set man dressed in the practical tunic and pants most medical personal favored. 

Relax? Sure. Let's see how relaxed he'd be if it was him locked into the operating chair and about to lose his mind.

The doctor had sent the guards to wait out in the hall when he'd entered the exam room. I didn't know if the guards were undercover or not. For that matter I wasn't sure if this guy was the doctor the task force had sent. They'd promised the doctor would fix it so that I could keep control while working at Crawford Industries. Just a temporary mild-wipe, they'd said. I'd “wake up” within a few days, and the hypno-treatment would take over. I'd still look and act mind-wiped, but I could break out of it, if I wanted.

Doctor Baldy aimed a portable skimmer at the back of my hand. He hummed to himself and then read my name out loud from the holographic image the skimmer formed over my hand.

“Blair Sandburg. Bastard. Guide to sentinel James Ellison, detective, Major Interplanetary Crimes. Oh, my. That's a tough break for him. I'll adjust your neurotransmitters to compensate for the depression that you'll experience when your bond is broken. You aren't going to be seeing him again, are you? Let me check your court records.”

Fiery pits of perdition, didn't this guy know the score? Was he saying that for the benefit of anybody monitoring us?

Telepathically, I yelled for Jim. I described the guy who was looking through my court and medical records and asked if that matched the description of the doctor who was supposed to operate on me. It had been somebody on the task force's bright idea that the doctor's name be kept from me. Apparently they didn't trust me to not go around blabbing it or asking for that doctor . I was afraid that “need to know” philosophy was about to blow up on me. Jim said he'd find out from Simon and for me to stall.

“Uh, hello, what are you doing?” Explaining about the various things he was attaching to my head might buy me a few minutes, although I already knew what they were. I'd done my research. 

He ignored me and kept on humming while he rolled my sleeves up and unbuttoned my shirt, then he stuck monitors on my arms and chest. 

“Have you done many of these, Doc?” 

“Be quiet. If I want you to say something, I'll tell you.” He resumed humming. So much for engaging in small talk. I might have to start yelling, but that could backfire and I might be given a drug to put me out.

Another man entered the room without so much as a polite tap on the door. He shot a worried look at me, then said to Doctor Baldy, “Excuse me, this man was scheduled on my roster.”

Dr. Baldy shrugged. “You were in the restroom and I was done with all of mine. I thought I'd finish up for you. Why don't you call it a day, go on home. This one's going to be a little more interesting to work on since he's a guide and his bond will be broken. I'd enjoy the change of pace.”

My heart was about to beat its way right out of my chest. The second doctor laughed and then came over and clapped Dr. Baldy on the shoulder.

“Thanks for the offer, George, but I've got this one. I've checked his records and I agree he's interesting. Don't often get guides or sentinels coming through here. Look, if you're finished with your list, then you deserve to go home early. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Maybe I'll stay and observe.” Dr. Baldy crossed his arms. “Or contact the director. You've only been here a little over a week, and I've got seniority. I think I want this patient. We can avoid the fuss, though. Just leave him to me and be glad for the time off.”

_”Blair, your doctor is taller than me, thin, gray-haired, green eyes. Stall the other one. Simon contacted our man there and he'll set things straight.”_

“Umm, say, do you think I could have a bathroom break?” 

They both stopped arguing and stared at me. “No,” Dr. Baldy said. “You're already wired up. Just wait.”

“You can use a urinal,” said Dr. Tall-and-Thin. 

Pee in front of these guys? Not my first choice, but I would if it would buy more time. 

There was a knock on the door and one of the guards who'd brought me to the room stuck his head in and pointed at Dr. Baldy. “Doc, there's a protector outside jacking your vehicle. Have you got tickets that you haven't paid or something?”

Dr. Baldy tore out of the room and the guard winked at me. The tall, thin, gray-haired doctor walked to the door and spoke to him. I heard the guard tell the doctor he'd be waiting and would take me himself to the loading pen. 

The doctor, the right doctor, locked the door. He walked over to me and laid his hand on my chest.

“Blair, I'm sorry for the scare. The guard came and got me from the restroom when George decided to take over. And do you need a urinal?”

“No. Just stalling.” 

He frowned, and flipped a switch on the chair. Instantly my vitals were flashing in bright colors above me. I couldn't read all of the information but from the look on the doctor's face, he didn't approve of my numbers.

“I'm going to give you something to help you relax. I need you calmer than this to start the deep hypno-treatment.” The doctor walked to a cabinet.

“Wait. Let me meditate and see if I can get things under control.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I had just released my third breath when there was a cool, damp touch to my inner arm and then the prick of a needle. My eyes flew open.

“Fiery perdition, what'd you give me?” I wanted to fuss that I would have calmed down if he'd just given me a _minute_ but it was too late. I already was feeling the effects of the drug.

“Gabatome. It's fast acting and we don't have time to spare. But keep doing your deep breathing. We'll be ready to start the hypno-treatment in a few minutes. In the meantime, imagine a safe place and how you would look there. Make it as rich in detail as you can. Your core personality will be inhabiting that mental space. You're going to realize everything that is happening to you but you won't really experience it in depth. Not unless you chose to override the commands I'll implant in your consciousness.”

“You're going to have me disassociate.” I heard myself say the words slowly. Calmly. 

“Yes. Even in ancient times, the ability to disassociate to spare the mind from the worst effects of trauma was well documented. You'll be protected this way.” The doctor's hand were busy, various beeps and clicks emanating from the controls of the chair. 

“But my body will feel everything done to it.”

“That's true. But say you are beaten; your body will feel the pain, but it will fade without leaving a scar on your psyche. When this is all over, you might feel as if you'd been in a dream, but you won't have lasting emotional trauma. Believe me, you will be in control. Think of it as holding a switch in your hand. If you decide that your body is in danger, or you have to communicate as yourself, then flip the switch and the disassociation will stop. You'll be normal again, not a mind-wiped person. But don't do it unless you're ready to be pulled out. This is a one-way switch. The hypnosis won't take effect again, unless you were to return here and I gave you another treatment.”

He patted my leg. My skin felt flushed and warm. I was comfortable, a little sleepy. My thoughts wandered to Jim, but it was too much effort to try to talk to him. 

“Look at me, and keep your eyes on mine. We're ready to start. First, I'm going to do the deep hypno-treatment, then I'll implant the hearing and vision recording tech, and finally, I'll do the temporary mind-wipe”

He said, leaning over me, “The mind-wipe won't last more than two or three days, but the hypno-treatment can't be activated until it wears off. While you're mind-wiped you won't remember much about your former life. When it's faded and you wake up, you'll be in your safe place, watching everything. When you're ready to record to the chip, just think it and the chip will respond. I'll go over all of this again when you're under.”

“Dim lights, raise room temperature four degrees.” The room grew darker and warmer. I blinked, and then blinked again. 

“Keep looking at me, Blair. Watch my eyes.”

He brushed the curls away from my forehead. “Ready to go to your safe place, Blair? Picture yourself there, happy, contented, relaxed.”

I remembered making love with Jim by the waterfall when we had traveled to the spirit plane. I decided I would wait there, lying back on the soft grass, enjoying the sounds and brilliant colors of the jungle birds, the rich scents on the breeze. I would dream of Jim, of how he cherished me, how his touch sensitized my skin, how good it was to feel the bond as we orgasmed.

I could feel myself hardening; there was another wet swipe on my arm, the jab of something sharp, and soft words floating into my ears. His eyes were green, and I blinked again. _Keep your eyes on mine_ echoed in my mind. 

“You're feeling very happy now, aren't you? Think about your lover's touch, how good he makes you feel. Can you feel his touch on your skin? Good. You're good. You feel very, very good and very relaxed. Just think of him and your safe place and how he makes you feel when he touches you.”

He brushed his hand over my eyes and they closed obediently. “That's good, Blair. Keep your eyes shut now and be good for me. You're good, and it feels good when you're touched. Picture your safe place, and how good it feels to be there. No one can hurt you there, you're invisible to others, no one knows you're there. It's good to be hidden. You're happy, you're relaxed, and you're there in your safe place. It feels so good to be there, you're safe, you're warm, you're good, you're so good, you're a good boy...”

His voice kept murmuring, but it was Jim's hands on me, touching my belly and groin, and it was his mouth on my dick, so good, and the bond was so wide, so open, filling me, stretching me, and I felt myself shatter. 

I fell down and down and down and when I opened my eyes the light was a beautiful blue tint and there was the sound of a waterfall nearby. I was sprawled, legs spread, against a little rise off the path to the waterfall. My shirt was unbuttoned and loose, the breeze a teasing touch on my nipples. The cheap trousers I was wearing were opened wide, inviting me to slide my hand down my belly and cup my balls and dick. I felt drowsy, warm, safe and comfortable – and as aroused as a spacer on shore leave. I knew where I was, but I was pretty sure that the spirit plane wasn't what the doctor had in mind when he had me visualize a safe place. 

I closed my eyes and checked the bond; I sensed that Jim was bewildered, but fine, and I sent reassurance back. He'd been flooded with arousal when I orgasmed, and it had confused him. I yearned to talk to him, but the words wouldn't form in my mind.

Dreamily, I wondered where I was in the mundane world. How much time had passed since I'd been in the treatment room?

The last thing I really remembered was that... orgasm. I'd had an orgasm. I think. It sure felt like an orgasm. And if it was, then I'd had it while sitting in that chair, and... I'd had an audience. 

I should have been embarrassed. But instead I felt comfortable and safe and the fact that the doctor had seen me like that just didn't seem to matter. 

I relaxed my muscles further, using the skills my mother had taught me when I was very small. It was good to be tucked away, safe in the spirit plane. Jim had caught me here and soul-bonded himself to me, anchoring me so that I couldn't choose to die. I had been angry with him when he'd done that because I chose not to live mind-wiped. But he'd claimed me as a guide and saved me and when I'd come to love him we'd both soul-bonded. I loved it here, it was so pleasant, and when Jim found me, we would make love, as we'd done before on the spirit plane. 

I was vaguely curious about what was happening to my body. I should try to find out. I closed my eyes, and _searched_.

I was still in the operating chair, so I hadn't been experiencing disassociation for very long. The doctor was talking to the guard. 

“Let me get his records ready for you to take with him. It's strange, I've never seen brain wave patterns like this before in a mind-wiped patient. And yet, the mind-wipe was successful.” He sounded very puzzled. The doctor started taking off the various monitors from my chest and arms. I could feel his touch. It was weird; it... didn't matter. This must be the effects of the disassociation, but he'd said I wouldn't be aware of it until after the mind-wipe had worn off. Looks like the doc was wrong about that. 

The guard stepped forward, leaning over me to release my arms and legs and hips from the restraints. He waved at my groin and I followed the movement and saw that I really had experienced an orgasm. My crotch was stained and damp and now that I was checking I could smell my semen. 

“I've seen them wet and shit themselves when they get put in this chair, Doc, but I've never seen one do that.” He was smirking. I was disconnected from the emotions I knew I would have felt before, shame, mortification. I should have wanted to cover myself. I should have been blushing, but my skin didn't feel overheated at all. 

The guard suddenly looked suspicious. “Did you touch him? Even if he had fairly earned being mind-wiped, I wouldn't have allowed that. And he shouldn't even be here. Do you know what the pretext was that got him back in court?”

The doctor shone a light in my eyes, and then moved it up and down and to the side. I tracked it with my eyes. 

The doctor talked over me. “I was told that he'd broken some minor rule about his probation to save the detective who is his sentinel. And no. I didn't molest this boy. He must have been thinking about his sentinel when I began the treatment because he got an erection and I built on that to help him to feel relaxed and safe. I only suggested he think about his lover.”

The doctor pushed a switch and the chair moved, sitting me directly up. He kept on talking to the guard. 

“I've never observed anyone orgasm during treatment either. I did some research on guides when I was given this assignment. According to what I read, he shouldn't have even had an erection without his bonded sentinel present. After this case is over, I think I'll ask for permission to do some more testing with him. He's not acting in established parameters at all, and his brain waves are strange.”

The doctor handed the guard my records, a dot in a small case. “My part is done. This room is secured, so satisfy my curiosity. Are you the one who turned in Hannity?”

“Yes. I'm not opposed to mind-wiping when it's called for. I've seen it change some dangerous characters into mild-mannered and manageable people. They're as sweet as they can be when they get up from that chair. But the ones Hannity sends, I couldn't help but notice what they had in common. Poverty, and every last one a bastard. He sent plenty to Crawford's place that should have only had a little time with Community Service. Fair's fair. I got nothing against bastards, so I had a little confidential talk with somebody I trusted up in the Justice office.”

The doctor shook the guard's hand and said to me, “You won't remember me, I'm sure, but goodbye, Blair.” 

The guard said, “I've noticed that the mind-wiped don't seem to remember much from day to day, except for instructions on their jobs. They really just live in the present, don't they?”

The doctor nodded, and then walked to the door, “He's all yours. See you tomorrow.” He left then and I wondered if he was right? Would I remember what had happened to me in here when I woke up tomorrow?

The guard moved closer, so that he was standing directly in front of me. He surveyed me up and down, and then he tousled my hair. 

I decided to let the real me take a backseat. I retreated into my safe, beautiful forest, but I was also there in that treatment room, aware of what was happening to me. I was mind-wiped, but not... one hundred percent. Strange. 

“What's your name?”

I smiled at him, feeling happy that he had spoken to me. “Blair”

“What's your last name?”

“Sandburg”

“What's the name of the judge you saw this morning?”

“I don't know.”

He nodded. “How're you feeling, young man?”

“Happy.”

“Well, that's good. Okay, let's get you cleaned up and changed into your new duds. Do you know you made a mess in your clothes?”

I found myself giggling. That was strange, but I made no effort to stop myself. I was still content to go along for the ride, and I'd let Brainless Blair do what he wanted to do.

“I'm all sticky.” 

“Stand up and walk with me. At least the way you are you won't mind when people look at you and see that you had a party in your pants.”

I did as he said, smiling at everybody I met. Some of them smiled back, and that made me happy. 

After he'd given me some clean, blue coveralls and taken me to a shower room, I did what he said and undressed, washed myself all over, and put on my new clothes. It made me feel happy to do what he said. 

He took me to a room where there were other people sitting on benches, and I sat down, too. We all waited together. Some of them looked familiar, but I didn't know why.

After a while a big vehicle came up to the door, and a woman came inside the room and told us to get up and find a seat inside the vehicle. 

It made me happy to do what she said, and it made me happy to wave goodbye to the guard. 

I watched out the window as we left that big place. When we came to a new big place the woman told us to leave the vehicle and get in a line because we were at our new home.

I followed the people in front of me and walked inside the building. A man pointed a little machine he held in his hand at my head, and then he looked at it. He took my hand and touched another machine to the shapes on the back of my hand. 

He slapped me on my backside when he was finished. He pointed to a tall, pretty woman. “Go stand over by her, boy. She's your new nanny.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

“Connor. How did Blair look today?” I'd heard her approaching the door of our little love nest and intercepted her at the door. 

It had been three long days since Blair had been sent to Crawford's, and she'd been working twelve-hour shifts, caretaking him and about a hundred other mind-wiped people.

I hadn't been allowed to see him to bond. Crawford had ignored my increasingly frantic messages to him, and if I didn't get some results within the next day then I was stomping into his office to make a real scene. 

She pushed past me and kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the inexpensive couch with an appreciative groan. “He's starting to feel bond withdrawal, I think. The poor bugger's having mood swings. One moment he's normal, well, normal for dollies, and then he's rocking himself, the poor pet, with tears running down his face. So far, giving him a hug seems to snap him out of it. What about you, mate? Having any spikes or zones yet?”

“I got lost looking at the soap bubbles while washing the dishes last night. I think I was zoned for about a half hour. My comm – it was Simon checking on me – started chiming and that brought me out of it.“

I dropped down in a green armchair, worn but comfortable. “I can feel these mood swings of Blair's through our bond. I try to send him reassurance; maybe it helps. We haven't been able to talk telepathically since he had the mind-wipe treatment. He isn't receptive when I try to contact him. I don't know, maybe he's not able to think clearly enough to form messages to me in his head.”

Connor yawned. “He's eating what's put in front of him, and he's washing himself without me having to remind him. He's had more testing today. Apparently some abilities such as manual dexterity vary between the dollies and they won't put a clumsy one on a job that needs a dolly with clever hands. I looked at his test results. He's a star, even like this. Tomorrow, though, he'll be assigned to a work station. Oh, and this happened today. Made my blood boil, it did. Two smarmy types singled out Sandy and about thirty other new ones. They brought them into a room one by one and then sent them out again. I made some excuse to knock on the door and open it up, and those two gits were making holos of the dolly in the room. She was naked and posing with her hands cupping her breasts. I mumbled an excuse for interrupting them and shut the door. All of the dollies in line were attractive and young. Like Sandy.”

I clenched my fists, aching to smash those men who'd made Blair show them his body, touched him to pose him, made him hold his dick in his hands and smile. When this was over I was tracking down every one of those holos and destroying them. And maybe the photographers.

Connor got up and laid a hand on my shoulder. “We'll get them, Jim. And Sandy won't disappear into some unknown whore-house. Not on our watch. If we lose contact, then Community Service can track him through his bone beacon, if his frequency is put back on monitoring status.” 

As part of his cover, he'd been automatically dismissed from Community Service's probation program before he was sent to Crawford Industries, and his beacon's frequency had been removed from the monitoring program.

Connor went into the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. She drank half of it, then set the cup down. She gave me a sharp-eyed glance, and said, awkwardly, “The task force has people in place to pose as customers, and when they're shown Sandy's picture they'll book him. And you'll be able to see him soon. Kincaid's not the sort to waste a valuable tool like you. He'll have a pipeline coming straight from headquarters to him and his bigoted group.”

She sighed. “I just don't understand his kind of thinking; he needs to be taken down.”

I looked up at her, and she looked determined. Megan Connor was tough, but fair, and hadn't grown up steeped in the classism that was rampant throughout the Hundred Worlds' culture, especially here on New Rainier. She didn't look at bastards as the dregs of society. 

Kincaid did. His whole manifesto was based on keeping bastards from obtaining any privileges. Privileges. Wrong word. And I hadn't even realized it when I'd first thought it. Blair, if he'd heard me, would have pointed out that the “rights” the elite and superior classes took for granted, when applied to the bastard class, and in some things, the common class, suddenly morphed into “privileges.” Since Blair had become my guide, there were a lot of things I was seeing now through his eyes, and it wasn't a very scenic view.

The Sunrise Patriots were against any programs like the ones Blair had enrolled in that helped educate bastards so that they could move out of their class. Kincaid's most extreme position was that all bastards should be sterilized and mind-wiped, not just those who committed a crime.

In essence, Kincaid stood for reducing the bastard class to slaves. 

Unfortunately, he had his share of supporters, and it wasn't hard to see why Crawford had joined him. More mindless slaves for him to use to increase production at his factories and on his agri-farms. 

Connor yawned again, reminding me that she'd worked through the night. 

I pointed to her bedroom door. “Get some sleep. I'm going to MIC to report in to Captain Banks, and I'll include what you've told me. Then I'm dogging Crawford's footsteps. I've got to bring enough attention to myself so that Kincaid hears about it. I'm going to have Justice pull Blair out in three more days if we haven't bonded. He'll only get a year off his sentence, instead of ten years, though.”

“Hang tough, mate. I'm dead on my feet, see you later.”

She went into the small bedroom she'd taken as hers and shut the door.

I checked our soul bond and Blair radiated happiness. I was starting to hate the feeling. 

xxx 

 

That night I shifted from dreaming into the spirit world, searching for Blair in the blue-tinted jungle that mirrored Quyllur's rain forests. I sensed he was near the waterfall, but try as I might, I couldn't find him. I used all my senses, but it was like he was a ghost to me. Sometimes it seemed as if I caught his scent on the breeze, but it would be gone before I could track it to him. Frustrated, I ended my spirit walk and returned to broken dreams, confused and lonely.

xxx

_”Jim!”_

I sat up in bed, groggy, and looked around for Blair. It was dawn, and the birds outside were starting to sing. Blair got annoyed when they woke him up, but I didn't mind. Their ancestors had come to New Rainier along with mine long ago, across the vast reaches of space. I liked knowing that about them.

I got out of bed and stretched and remembered just where Blair was this morning.

_”Jim, wake up! Man, I'm back, I'm back, my mind isn't full of happy mush anymore. Wake the fuck up and talk to me!”_

I let out a relieved sigh and a knot in my gut uncoiled. The mind-wipe had ended, just like the doctor had said it would. I hadn't realized until that moment how afraid I'd been that something had gone wrong and Blair would remain a brainless sweet shell of himself for the rest of his life.

 _”Blair, are you okay? Where are you? How much do you remember about the last couple of days?”_

_”I'm doing all right. I haven't been hurt. I'm in my dorm, along with about a hundred other poor souls. Everybody else seems to be asleep on mats. Megan's here; I can see her sitting at a desk. And I do remember what happened over the last few days. Jim, a couple of men took my picture. Uh, they told me to do things and I did them. I smiled while they were exploiting me. It just didn't bother me, and it's really strange, but it still doesn't bother me that they posed me as if I was a cash boy.”_

It made me seethe thinking about how Crawford and Kincaid were taking advantage of such a vulnerable population. Knowing they were doing it to Blair made it personal. _”Connor told me about the holos and I hated it for you. Looks like you're going to be made available soon._ ” I grabbed a robe and walked out to the kitchen to make a pot of kaffee. 

_“Oh, I know it. They talked right in front of me about the prostitution ring. I recorded it. Wow. Even though I was still dopey, a part of me knew to take pictures and record their conversation. That doctor knew his business. All I have to do is think a command and a copy of what I'm seeing and hearing goes to the chip.”_

_”Are you sure it's working?”_ Kaffee made, I knocked back the first cup and re-filled it, feeling myself starting to really wake up. 

_”I can review the recordings, some sort of feedback loop. Really fascinating technology. Today I'm going to snoop around the offices here. Even if I'm caught, the managers will just think I'm a lost dolly. I can't override the hypno treatment and talk directly to Megan as myself; I won't have the benefit of naturally acting mind-wiped anymore if I do. Can you comm her, pass along that I can think for myself again? Tell her to back my play. I'm going to get cleaning supplies and check out the offices before people show up for work.”_

We talked a little longer, but I didn't want Blair to become tired, so reluctantly I said good-bye.

I commed Connor and told her Blair was no longer mind-wiped and would be looking for evidence. She was as relieved as me to hear it. She'd have his back, and I was grateful to her. 

At least Blair was able to do things now to move this case along. I was stuck until Kincaid decided to let me bond with Blair as a bribe. I'd be in his pocket then, or so we hoped he'd think. His offer had better come soon.

In another day, I could feel that both Blair and I would be in serious bonding withdrawal. Maybe I'd get past Crawford Industries' security later today. The manager had barred me after the last time I'd visited Crawford's complex. Let them see a sentinel going primal to reach his guide. Maybe that would finally get Kincaid interested in me.

xxx

“Look, mate,” Connor wheedled to the man blocking our entrance into the office section of the complex, “this little dolly's a real crybaby if he doesn't have a chore to do. As long as his hands are busy, he's not acting all tragic. I don't like seeing him unhappy. It's unnerving. Dollies aren't supposed to be sad. Let him do a spot of cleaning; it'll cheer him right up. He's already finished up what he could in the dorms.”

I started to sniffle, and it wasn't acting. Now that I wasn't talking to Jim telepathically, I was missing him so badly that I yearned to sit down and bawl my eyes out. I had expected mood swings since I was in bond withdrawal, but knowing and experiencing were two different things. 

“I saw him crying yesterday. Why don't you tell him to play with himself, let him feel better that way? Seems as if the rest of them do it all the time.” The guard, a man in his fifties, tall and stocky, came across as tired and bored. Megan needed him to unlock the offices so I could look around, get some leads or evidence to tie Hannity, Crawford, and Kincaid together.

I began to sob, and my eyes started overflowing. It wasn't true that doing a chore would make me feel better. I'd have to fake being cheerful for a while till the mood swing ended.

“He can't, the poor little bugger. He's the one that was bonded to a sentinel. He can only get it up with that fellow.” Megan reached out and shook me a little, but that only made me cry harder. 

The guard laid a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Here now, none of that. Is the baby getting on your nerves, eh, with his wallering and wailing? I remember the feeling with my young ones, but you can't give in to smacking them. You need a break, don't you? All right, I can't see the harm in letting him clean. Come back and get him before my shift ends.” 

Megan turned me around and pointed to the cleaning cart I'd brought along. “There you are, now stop the blubbering. Be a good dolly and dust and sweep and polish up the offices.” To the guard she said, gratefully, “Thanks. You're a pal,” and she left me with him.

He shushed me and mopped up my tears with the tail of his shirt. Then he made me blow my nose into a wad of tissues he held to my face. He tossed them and gave me a strong hug. “Now then, come along. Once you're busy, you'll feel better.”

I wondered if the staff here, the ones that weren't abusive, tended to infantilize the mind-wiped, or was it just me that got his nose wiped and treated like a toddler? Was it easier to think of us as children, in need of comfort and structure, than to wonder if we'd really deserved to be made into dollies? 

Well, this guard seemed a decent man. He unlocked a suite of offices, and I smiled at him to thank him for his kindness. He ran his hand through my curls before I went into the first room. 

“Work quietly, and when you've finished with this place go on to the next room. They're all unlocked.”

He shut the door and I got to work. Holding onto a duster, I checked through the desk drawers and the filing cabinets. I didn't find anything useful there. On to the next step. Megan had secreted in the cleaning cart a tiny slave equipped with the best security code breakers the NRIA had developed, and I used it to investigate the slave sitting on the desk. I didn't have time to read any files so I copied them to the little slave. I hurriedly finished cleaning that office, keeping an inane smile on my face in case the guard opened the door, and then went on to the next room. 

I continued checking each desk and cabinet and copying files. In the overseer’s office I found work assignments for the next day ready to be issued. I scanned for my name, and if the hypno-treatment hadn't kept me from reacting, I would have sworn out loud. Instead, my mouth kept turning up in a show of being a happy worker as I read that I was to be transported to Daniel Hannity's house as domestic help for the next two days. 

Daniel Hannity was the judge who had sentenced me. There was a notation on the page that I'd been requested personally by the client. No charge. 

I didn't know why he'd picked me, but it couldn't be for anything good. Judge Hannity hated bastards. The disdain he'd showed in court for me and the others in my class had been extreme. Still, this might be another opportunity to gather evidence against the judge.

It was almost time for the morning shift to arrive, and I finished tidying up the last office. I hadn't seen anything about the prostitution ring, and I wondered if those records were kept here. Maybe that information had been on an office slave. If so, Megan would take what I'd copied out with her when she left in a few hours.

I heard her saying hello to the guard, and I left the office and went to her. 

I smiled at her and the guard. She winked at me, and said, in a syrupy-sticky voice, “Well, now, back to being happy, are we? Come along. It's time to eat and get cleaned up.” She thanked the guard again and briskly headed towards my dorm. I followed her like a baby duckling did its mama, stopping when she did at the large communal shower. 

The dollies hadn't left the sleeping room yet. Megan was doing me a kindness by letting me shower in relative privacy. The morning shift was straggling in, though, so she said for any eavesdropper's benefit, “In you go, and don't forget to wash your face and hair and your bottom. Then come to the sleeping room and put up your mat. I'll take the cart and put it away. Be quick, and don't play in the water.” She took the cart from me, deftly palming the tiny slave I'd hidden next to the roll of cleaning towels.

I giggled for a moment, then said, “Okay,” and followed her orders. I talked telepathically to Jim briefly and explained about Hannity. Jim was having a rough morning. He'd experienced my sadness, and from him it had echoed to me. He was uncomfortable, his sense of touch was spiking so much that his clothes felt like sandpaper. 

He was pleased to hear about my success in checking out the offices, and we both hoped that the files contained evidence the task force could use. 

By the time I'd dressed in clean coveralls and gone to put up my mat, I'd said goodbye. It made me want to cry again, but I resisted breaking down. This was the longest I'd been away from Jim since we'd bonded, and I couldn't wait for this operation to be finished. 

Later, I was given a drink and a rolled up piece of flat bread that had a meat and grain mixture inside it. I ate it, smiling at everybody else sitting down on the floor with me, the mats secured on the walls behind us.

Then assignments were given out, the majority of dollies sent to their usual workplace.

I responded when an overseer called my name . My code was quickly checked, and I and five others were taken to a vehicle and dropped off at Judge Hannity's huge house. 

The judge had regular servants, but since he was preparing for some big party, there was extra work to do. The other five dollies were given assignments under the supervision of the household staff.

Hannity singled me out and took me into a study with an expensive desk and elegant chairs. I turned my recording chip on, expecting him to say or do something he didn't want to be noticed. 

He slapped me hard across the face. “You were a disrespectful little bastard, daring to blow kisses in my courtroom. You and that sentinel of yours. You've dragged him down to your own depraved level. The man's an elite, after all. It's for his sake that I want your bond broken. He can do better, much better. I know you don't understand a word I'm saying, but having you clean my toilets is balm for my soul.” He slapped me again and I fell to the ground. 

“Get up, you worthless bastard.” He kicked me, and Jim's rage blazed through our bond. I assured him that I was fine, that at the least Hannity could be charged with abuse thanks to my chip. 

I got slowly to my feet, and then the hypno-treatment saved my butt. I smiled at the man, even though inside of me it was the last thing I wanted to do. 

“I like to work. Please give me a job to do.” It was a rote phrase all of us dollies had been programed during the mind-wipe procedure to say to those in charge of us. Us. Being treated like a dolly was making me feel like one, even if I wasn't really mind-wiped.

That submissive phrase calmed Hannity, to my relief. He muttered to himself that he had to leave for court anyway. He sent me out and a woman on his regular staff took charge of me. I spent the day cleaning bathrooms and mopping floors and washing walls. I couldn't snoop since I wasn't left alone, but I was assigned here tomorrow to help with the party. I gathered I would be kitchen help. Probably washing dishes or helping with food prep. Maybe, though, I would get a chance to hear or see something that would give me more evidence of maleficence than just being slapped around by the judge.

xxx

I woke up surrounded by medics and with the front security guard at Crawford Industries staring down at me. 

I sat up and tore off the monitors that were stuck to my skin. “Okay, I zoned. How long was I out?” 

A medic with a cheerful expression on her pleasant features told me that I'd been out for forty minutes. If I hadn't responded soon, I would have been hospitalized. 

I got to my feet a little shakily, a medic's arm under my elbow. It burned where he was touching me, and I jerked free. I pointed to the guard. “You tell Crawford what happened here and that I'll pay him to let me bond with my guide. You tell him that if he values his skin, he'd better take that offer.” 

I walked away, ignoring the demands of the medics to let them check me again.

I hated feeling so vulnerable. It was the part of being a sentinel that had always put me off, so that I'd preferred to take the suppressants instead of being with a guide. Until I'd met Blair. He'd changed everything. I had to bond with him soon, or the zones and spikes would end up pushing me into a coma. 

I returned to my vehicle and just sat there, unsure what my next step should be. I was halfway considering hi-jacking the transport that would bring Blair back to this complex from Hannity's residence. 

Simon would have my balls if I tried it, but I was getting to the point that I didn't care. 

I asked Blair for an update and he told me he was still at Hannity's place. With an effort, I told myself to hold out a while longer. If I stormed into the judge's house, he'd have me up on charges so fast my head would spin, and then I wouldn't be free to help Blair if he needed me.

If I could only find him on the spirit plane, it would help. Maybe tonight would be more successful than the other times I'd searched for him.

I went to the infirmary at work, and the doctor gave me some creams to sooth the red, itchy splotches on my skin. Simon called me into his office and set the room to the highest security level.

“Sit down, Jim. I wanted to update you. Blair's holo has been made available to those clients who pay Crawford for the services of his 'employees.' Crawford isn't tied directly to the brothel, but we've traced the business back to Crawford Industries as the parent company. To the public these cash boys and girls are presented as legitimate sex-workers. We can bust them just for using the mind-wiped as prostitutes, since they are in protected care. That doesn't tie us to Kincaid, though. Still, one of our agents has picked Blair for tonight and for tomorrow evening, with a first option on him for the rest of the week. Tell Sandburg, all right? And don't bother asking; you can't take the agent's place. It's too risky.”

I knew he was right. I was known as a detective; if I tried to buy Blair on my own, I might jeopardize the mission. I had to wait till I was approached. At this point I didn't care if I did have to pay with credits or with confidential information to be with Blair. 

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet, and bought myself some extra time by passing along to Blair Simon's message. He was apprehensive, but not willing to quit the mission. 

“Sir, Blair says he wants the agent to say something that clues him in that the guy is the right one. After the wrong doctor almost got his hands on him, he's a little leery of another screw-up.”

“He's got a point. All right, tell him that the agent will say that his eyes are as blue as Quyllur's oceans.”

I smiled in spite of myself. “That's very poetic of you, sir.” 

Simon scowled, and I detected heat rising from his skin. I swallowed my laugh, and he pointed to the door. “Out, Detective. I've got work to do.”

He was right, though. Blair's eyes were as blue as the oceans of our adopted homeland.

xxx

“He's got pretty blue eyes, don't ya think?” I was staring at the man I was supposed to have sex with tonight. “Reminds me of the oceans on Quyllur.”

The person who was in charge, a well groomed man who'd sniffed disapprovingly at my appearance when I'd met him, made a vaguely interested noise and then busied himself with accepting payment for my ass.

I relaxed, keeping the vacuous smile on my face. I'd been sent here after my shift at Hannity's house. Once I'd been ushered through a backdoor at this brothel, I'd been sent to shower and shave. Then a flunkie had given me an enema and had shoved lube up my ass. Again, as an observer, I was fascinated that my embarrassment levels were set to zero by the hypno-treatments mimicking the effects of being mind-wiped. 

I'd brushed my hair, my teeth, and dressed in a blue loose silky top that tied on the side and matching pants that would only take a small tug to let them pool around my bare feet. 

The agent beckoned me close and slid an arm around my waist loosely. He twined a curl around his finger, playing with it while the desk man put the credits into a safe box. This was a pleasant place, a large mansion and not sleazy at all, on the edge of the city boundaries. It seemed too nice just to be a brothel. I wondered if it was used for anything else, conferences or meetings.

I'd seen about fifty other dollies here. Once you knew what to look for in their demeanor and facial expressions, they were easy to spot. Most of them were sitting on couches in several large living rooms or out in the garden area, perched on benches.

The agent touched my cheek, and I flinched. He frowned and examined my face carefully. “Hey. He's been hit. I can feel a bruise coming up. I don't pay to have damaged merchandise.”

The desk guy glanced at me and shrugged his shoulders. “I apologize for that. It must have happened earlier today. Do you prefer to return him for another server?”

The agent frowned. “No, I want him, bruises included. But I've booked him for tomorrow, too, and there'd better not be any new damage when I come back. This place came highly recommended. If I opt to put some color on him then I don't need somebody's work there already. You get me?”

“Again, sir, I apologize. I'll make a note of your complaint. Where would you prefer to take him?” He consulted a slave, “We have private arbors in the garden, or public ones if you would enjoy showing him off. Also, we have private bedrooms and public ones, if you prefer that option. There's a dungeon suite open, but it probably will be taken before too long.”

The agent hummed a little and eyed me up and down. “I think that I want a very private room. And I paid the full fee. I expect to be here all night. If he passes my tests, then I'll be booking him as a private companion. That means he'll be available only to me, correct? That's what I was led to believe by one of your satisfied customers.”

“Yes, sir, certainly. He's a simple fellow, though.” My hand was taken and my code shown to the agent. “Just a bastard. Most of our customers don't find them that interesting to be companions. If you are looking for someone who can handle themselves during social occasions and provide more interesting conversation, I can set up appointments with, ah, more suitable candidates.”

The agent seemed to ponder this. He smiled. “Well, I'll consider it. You may be right for the long run. For a while, though, this boy will do.”

“Sir, if I may be indelicate for a moment: your server will not be able to have an erection tonight. He may in the future, though. There are suitable substitutes for his lack in that department available in the closet for your use.” He edged out from behind the small counter in the office and started ushering us out the door. “Your room is down the hall, and I assure you it's very private and soundproofed.”

“Why can't my server get it up? Is he impotent?” I wasn't sure if his briefing had covered the reason, but for the sake of his cover it was a reasonable thing to ask.

“He's a guide and until his bond is broken with his sentinel he's unable to 'get it up' as you phrased it. It should only be a temporary problem.” We were walking down the carpeted hall, luxurious to my bare feet. I was smiling the entire time these two were discussing my dick. Surreal. 

“Not a problem. I'll use his mouth or his hands or his ass. I might choose to stretch my legs later. And I can call for room service?”

“Of course, sir. Feel free to visit the public rooms and gardens. There's a walking trail that loops around the grounds. And the kitchen is excellent here; there's a menu and a courtesy comm available in each room.”

We stopped at an expensive looking door; the agent strode in and gazed around, checked in the bedside drawers, and nodded. He slid the man a tip, and the guy looked pleased for the first time since I'd met him.

“Thank you, sir. If I can be of any further assistance, the front desk number is listed on the comm.” He indicated one that sat on a small table, next to a menu, and then departed.

The agent riffled through the overnight bag he'd brought with him and motioned for me to move next to him. I did, and he showed me a tube of lip gloss. He held it up so I could see it better, and then he brought it closer to me. 

“Pucker up, sweetie,” he said. 

Smiling, I did, and he opened it up and twisted it. The colored gloss, a deep red, emerged and he carefully applied it to my lips. He studied the tube critically when he was done and then stepped back. 

“Sorry. I had to check if there was any electronic surveillance in this room.” He waved the hand that still held the lipstick. “My name's Yusef. You can understand me but you can't communicate, according to my briefing. Not without ending the hypno-treatment. I'm taking point here, but if you go haring off I'll assume it's because you know something I don't and I'll cover you.”

He kicked off his shoes and took off his expensive outer shirt, leaving him in a thin, sleeveless undershirt. “I'm assuming that you're recording everything already. Look every mind-wiped person in this place in the eye, so we can document that they're being sent here from Crawford's complex.”

He looked briskly at me. “We need to make this believable. Here's how I see the time-line. You get undressed and rumple up the bed first, take a nap if you're tired. We stay in here for an hour, then I'll put on a robe and call for room service. When they bring in the food, you'll be on the bed, draped in the sheet. Flash them some ass, okay?” He pointed to his cheek and by the side of his mouth. “Kiss me here, let some of that stuff mark me.”

I stepped closer to him and kissed him twice, just as he'd asked. He grinned at me. “You are cute. If I wasn't working and you weren't already involved, I'd kiss you back. Oh, well. Anyway, after we eat, you go hide in the bathroom and I'll take the bed. I'll make sure they see that sex happened here. I've worked too hard on this case to blow it with inconsistencies. Then we'll take a tour of the place. Get as much evidence as we can. We'll tell the front desk to have clean sheets put on the bed and when we return, you can sleep. I'll keep watch.” 

He took my hand. “Sweet ancestors' bloodlines, I hope the task force was right and you really are in there. You've got the look of the mind-wiped with that smile. One more thing. Don't panic, but I'm going to hold you skin to skin. I want you to smell like me and me like you. As I said, I don't want any details to trip us up.” 

He untied my shirt and pulled it off my shoulders. Like a whisper in my mind I could feel Jim's jealousy. He wasn't doubting my commitment, but he was wishing he could change places with this agent. I wished he could, too. 

Yusef skinned out of his undershirt and embraced me, and there wasn't a credit's worth of distance between us. I might not have been able to get an erection, but he had no trouble. He didn't mention it, though. 

We embraced for several minutes, and then he pulled away. “Go lie down under the sheets. Get comfortable, you'll be there for a while.”

I followed his orders, like the good little dolly I was pretending to be.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Six**

Connor found me in a zone when she returned in the morning to our lovely little house. I had sat in a chair last night looking at a holo of Blair, the first one of him I'd ever seen. Simon had given it to me along with the files on the Yana investigation, when he'd suspected Blair of being behind the emergence of “Black Plague” on the streets of Cascade. 

Blair had been smiling when that holo had been taken, and it seemed to me, as I'd stared at it, that he was smiling for me. I'd gone deeper, searching for more and more details, and then I'd been lost.

She'd been worried, although she'd tried to hide it under the usual load of guff she was fond of dishing out to me. 

Finally, she laid down the law. “You can't be by yourself anymore, Jim.” She'd called me Jim, not Ellison, or Jimbo. I doubt she even realized she'd said it. 

Maybe she had a point. I couldn't talk to Blair when I zoned, and he couldn't break his cover to talk as himself. I owed it to Blair to not stay lost in a zone for hours so, to Conner's great surprise, I agreed with her. 

“Take me to MIC. I'm going to see if anything turned up useful in the files Blair copied from Crawford's. I'll tell Simon I need a minder now, and he can assign somebody to work with me. You need to come back here and get some sleep. Did Blair go back to Hannity's?” 

He had, and I spoke with him briefly, mind-to-mind. The judge was gone when he arrived, so he didn't pick up a new set of bruises. We didn't talk about last night, except that they'd found a large building on the property that was being guarded. Blair was returning there again tonight. To Yusef. 

I hated it.

Simon assigned Brown to stay with me, and we studied the data Blair had brought us from Crawford Industries. It was good. We had documentation for court now on how Crawford sent mind-wiped convicts in his care to brothels. Blair had been sent to a more high-class one, but there were two more that didn't bother with any niceties, aimed at the common class. 

It was going to be so satisfying to bring Crawford down. 

As far as a possible connection to Kincaid was concerned, a certain amount of each brothel transaction was paid to another account. Unfortunately, the credits were transferred out of the Hundred Worlds' jurisdiction, so we couldn't connect the account to Kincaid that way. Neither his nor the Sunrise Patriots' names were listed on the account. 

Simon was pleased, though, and said the task force was, too. I was feeling the need to bond pretty intensely today. I was restless and my skin felt too tight. Blair was feeling withdrawal also, in the form of depression, but he was trying not to cry. He wouldn't have any support while he was at Hannity's house. 

After I'd had about a dozen more spikes and two zoneouts, Henri was ready to drag me to the hospital. I couldn't allow that, though. If they drugged me into a coma to minimize bonding withdrawal, I couldn't help Blair at all. He was walking a high rope without a net and at least I could hear him call for help if he started to fall.

I was feeling more than desperate. I'd expected to be contacted by now by Kincaid or his men. I wouldn't wait past tomorrow evening and take a chance on damaging my bond with Blair. Henri went with me to Simon's office so I could inform him of my decision. Unless we bonded, or had an appointment to bond, Blair would be pulled out at the latest by midnight tomorrow. Thirty-six long hours from now. 

xxx

It was close to six o'clock when vehicles started showing up at Judge Hannity's mansion. I'd had a miserable day fighting off the mood swings that were threatening to wipe the smile off my face and had been kept busy with cleaning and food prep. I'd tried to not catch the judge's eye when he'd returned to his home an hour ago. 

His guests, once they'd arrived, had scattered into small groups talking earnestly to each other. I overheard a lot of the conversations, since my job was to keep checking rooms for any dirty, abandoned plates and cups and take them to the kitchen. 

This wasn't a party so much as a conference that Judge Hannity was sponsoring. He was playing the role of host, welcoming every new arrival and directing them to the buffet table, but he wasn't the man in charge. That honor belonged to my owner, Preston Crawford. 

I'd recognized him from holos in the investigative files. It wasn't as if he personally had anything to do his mind-wiped serfs, so this was the first time I'd seen him in person. He'd glanced at me, but I saw no spark of recognition in his eyes. 

He was a well-dressed man, confident and overtly friendly with the elite and superior class members who were present. He made small talk for a while, putting people at their ease, and then he herded the fifteen guests into a side room and settled them at the large table.

I'd polished that table earlier today. I wanted to hear what they were going to discuss and went to stand by a little refreshment station. Kaffee was available as well as a selection of teas and expensive bottles of liquor. 

I was wearing a shirt and trousers, the same drab blue the coveralls had been, and I'd tied my hair back. I'd been recording everything I'd heard or seen tonight, although there hadn't been much of anything except discussions on how society was crumbling. It hadn't been any surprise to me to hear Crawford expounding on the “bastard situation” as the root of society's problems. My class had become a convenient target to blame for just about everything. 

I was kept busy for a short time fetching kaffee and drinks to the guests, and then Hannity had stood up and cleared his throat. The murmurs of conversation died down, and I went to stand quietly in my corner.

“I'd like to thank all of you for accepting the invitation to form an advocacy group aimed at improving society. I think that years from now, this date will be remembered by our descendents as an historic occasion in the struggle to control the bastard population. I've asked Preston Crawford to speak tonight, and to outline some proposals to push through legislature. My own project is the repeal of the law that allows bastards to leave their class to pollute the common class, and even the superior class. This, my friends, is a campaign that must be fought on many fronts. Our strength is our positions in society. Within this group are captains of industry, such as my friend Preston, and fellow judges and lawmakers. We can wield the power to effect change, and our children's children's children will thank us and say our names in reverence on Ancestor's Day.”

He gestured to Crawford, who stood up and shook Hannity's hand. Once the judge had been seated, Crawford took over the speech making.

It was hard to listen to this swill, the same old propaganda that had been recycled for eons against a targeted group of people. I had my hypno-treatments to thank that I didn't start taking apart their arguments.

Crawford's main tactic was to show the economic advantages of controlling bastards to a much greater degree than the law currently allowed. 

His holo-projections compared the costs of using the mind-wiped criminals to what he would have had to pay to employees. As questions came from his audience, he answered them, always emphasizing the profit angle. He changed tactics after he'd finished with his own finances; he showed budget figures of programs designed to help the bastard class with higher education, job training, and health care. He also pointed out how much crime was committed by bastards and the economic price associated with it. He didn't stop at just the home planet, either. He brought up figures from the more developed planets in the Hundred Worlds' system.

His pitch, boiled down, was that managing the bastard class would benefit the superior and elite classes economically, and even supply the common class with more jobs, since the positions held by the more capable bastards would then be made available to the common class. 

Jim caught my revulsion at what I was hearing and spoke to me telepathically, asking if I was okay. I told him I was, just feeling disgusted by what I was listening to, but that I'd talk to him later. I wanted to be able to concentrate on what was happening in this room.

Crawford was fond of using the term “manage” to describe the policies he wanted to implement against my class. It was a white-wash kind of term. 

He asked for questions from the audience and a man asked him to clarify what he meant, exactly, by “manage.”

“That's an excellent question, and here to answer it is a man who's been working to improve our society for years. Garrett Kincaid has always been a man of vision, and he's fought tirelessly to further the agenda that those of us here tonight have all committed ourselves to following. He's been on the front lines, recruiting members to stand up against the encroachment of the bastard class into the _legitimate_ classes. He's willing to get his hands dirty in order to publicize his mission. You all have heard speculation, no doubt, that the Sunrise Patriots, the militia he has raised to bring justice to this planet, to all the Hundred Worlds, are behind the attacks on those ill-advised educational centers for bastards and the social agencies who provide relief to the parasites of our fair cities and planets. This will neither be confirmed nor denied to the public. But my friends, you should know the truth. The Sunrise Patriots have taken the fight to the streets and will continue to do so, to bring awareness to the public of the bastard problem. Each charity center that is destroyed, each school that is taken out, weakens any resistance from those bastards who would oppose us. Their leaders will be eliminated.”

I recorded everything he said, and the rapt look on his face told me he wasn't just in this for the money. He was a true believer in Kincaid's message. 

Crawford went on, his voice taking on a fervent quality. “Our role is not to take up arms with the Sunrise Patriots, but to supply those arms. Our aims are the same, and this alliance will help us all achieve our goals. The Sunrise Patriots are a visible symbol for the public to flock to, to support. Our work will be behind the scenes, and I consider supporting Garrett Kincaid and his Patriots to be an excellent investment. But, I'll let the man speak to you himself and answer your questions.”

He pushed a button on the wall and a holo-projector swung out of a hidden cabinet. His fingers danced over the controls, and then Garrett Kincaid's figure stood a bit away from the table. 

Kincaid was not a particularly tall man. He had sandy hair, and was handsome enough, but it was the fanaticism that radiated from him through his body language and his facial expressions that one noticed about him. He was a charismatic speaker, and he used stirring language to outline the changes he proposed. He was very clear about what exactly he meant by “managing the bastard population.” 

He was adamant that he and the Sunrise Patriots would wage war against the bastard class both through terrorism and the legal system. 

His proposed legal changes started with taking away what civil rights bastards now possessed, such as the right to vote and the right to a free public education, even if currently it was a segregated system for primary and secondary schools. My mother and her friends had taught me, and there were no segregation laws that applied to higher education. If Kincaid had his way, that would change.

Kincaid also demanded stricter laws against bastards, with mind-wiping as the consequence. Jobs bastards could now apply for within the limits of the law would be reduced. If these bigots won no longer would a bastard be able to raise himself from his class, no matter how much education, wealth, or service to his world he or she had achieved.

There was a counter movement that advocated ending the law that stated the child of a bastard would remain a bastard, even if the higher class parent also claimed the child. Kincaid wanted that law to remain.

That would mean, if he and his ilk won that battle, that if I ever had a child that was claimed by both myself and the mother, even if she was upper class, the baby would never be freed from being labeled a bastard.

I had a vision of endless lines of mind-wiped bastards, condemned by Kincaid's and Crawford's version of a new legal system, walking into huge factory and farm complexes like the one where I was currently assigned as a convict-slave.

I shuddered, coming dangerously close to breaking the hypno-treatment by that reaction, and unfortunately dropped the expensive, delicate tea-cup that I'd been bringing to a guest. It shattered, the rich blend of exotic teas splattering across the floor. The sound brought the room's attention on me.

This was not a good thing. These men had heard rhetoric against my kind for the last hour and a half. Crawford had fed into their self-interest, and Kincaid had stirred their prejudices. I longed to run away, but I didn't break the hypno-treatment. Instead I bowed to the silent room and said another dolly rote phrase, the usual pleasant let-me-please-you expression on my face. “Please pardon my clumsiness.” 

I knelt and started picking up the shards of paper thin porcelain. I heard footsteps approaching and a pair of expensive shoes stopped in front of me. A hand in my hair yanked my face upwards, and my eyes locked into the furious ones of Judge Hannity.

“Get up. You're a perfect example of why the bastard class doesn't deserve to be helped.” 

I got to my feet and he shoved me towards the front of the room, near the holo-projection of Kincaid. Hannity addressed the group, “This is why it's a waste of time and resources to try to help any bastards better themselves. Their low nature always wins out in the end.” 

He shook me to make his point. “This little bastard was completing a Ph.D, thanks to the charity of misguided groups, when he was caught smuggling a terrible drug to this very city. He should have been mind-wiped then, but he'd managed to ensnare an elite, a sentinel, and tricked him into bonding with him. I've rectified that mistake, since he broke his probation. He's now one of Preston's workers, and a portion of the money he earns is being donated to the Sunrise Patriots. In the future, someone like him will never be allowed to waste resources on an education.”

Crawford snapped his fingers. “It must be his sentinel that's been pestering me so much. He wants me to let him keep bonding with his guide.”

I let my eyes flicker over the men and women seated at that table. I wanted every last one of them identified as Kincaid's supporters. 

Hannity said, with a sneer on his face, “An elite should never have been paired with this piece of trash. Let the bond break. Maybe one day that detective will thank me.”

Kincaid suddenly looked alert. “Judge Hannity, Preston, this conversation needs to be continued, but we've kept these good people from their homes long enough. Guide, drop to your knees and stay put.”

I did what Kincaid asked, while Hannity concluded the meeting by asking for financial support for Kincaid's Patriots, and everyone there transferred credits to an off world account. By doing so they'd be taken into custody for supporting terrorism. I recorded it all, including the account information. Hannity promised that they would meet again soon, thanked them for coming, and ushered them out.

When everyone but Crawford and Hannity had left, Kincaid asked for more details about my sentinel. Crawford had only the vaguest of ideas about who Jim was and what department he worked for, but Hannity accessed court records to fill in the gaps.

Kincaid's face lit up with a nasty smirk. “Ellison works at MIC. I can use a man like him. If he wants to bond so badly, he'll pay our price. I think I'll have him approached and give him a little test. The IBI arrested two of my men for fire-bombing a free health clinic that serves bastards. They weren't identified as Sunrise Patriots officially, so their brave actions were not legally tied to us. Their location is being kept secret. If Ellison can provide the site and building plans where they're being kept, then we'll let him bond with his little bastard. He'll incriminate himself, so even if he decides later to back out of the deal, we'll blackmail him into keeping the information coming straight out of the enemy's camp.”

Good. I almost wanted to thank Kincaid for taking the bait since Crawford hadn't realized what an opportunity Jim's need to bond was providing for these sons-of-space-whores. I'd talk to Jim soon, let him know that he'd be contacted shortly.

Kincaid looked hard at me, maybe trying to see what Jim saw in me. It made me feel uncomfortable, but none of them would have known that. 

“What kind of work does the guide do?” Kincaid asked. 

Crawford raised a finger and accessed his comm, then answered Kincaid's question. “So far, he's done cleaning and kitchen help, and he's a whore at the brothel at night. He's due there when we're done with him. You,” he said, addressing me, “return to cleaning this room, then go to the kitchen and help until your handler comes for you.” 

I got to my feet, gave a slight bow, and cheerfully said, “Yes, sir.”

Kincaid was silent as I finished picking up the broken tea-cup and gathering the rest of the china to take to the kitchen. 

All the time I was cleaning up, I could tell Kincaid was keeping his eyes on me. 

“Mr. Natural,” he called out. I didn't respond. A mind-wiped person doesn't understand nicknames very well. Crawford and Hannity had left the room earlier, so there was no one there to tell me Kincaid meant me.

“You. Bastard guide, come over here.” This time I responded. Those two attributes were ingrained in me, and I would have known he meant me.

I stood before the holographic image of him. He could see me as clearly as I was observing him. He stared hard at me for several minutes.

“There's something about you. I'll be seeing you, Mr. Natural,” and he turned off his emitter, leaving me alone in the room.

 

xxx

 

“Detective Ellison.” Kincaid's lackey was an alert dark-skinned young man, fit and muscled, and the way his eyes skimmed the small park where he'd told me to meet him made me think he probably was one of the Sunrise Patriot's militia boys. 

I nodded, and he parked himself next to me on the bench. He slipped a scanner out of his pocket and flicked it on, keeping it hidden from casual, curious eyes as people walked by us with small children in tow or running with their pets. 

I focused on the sound of the scanner as it checked me for any recording devices, and the hum became louder and louder until it was all that I noticed. There were small variations in the sound, a rhythmic pulsing that I found myself falling into...

I came out of the zone to find the scanner out of sight, silent once again, and the lackey digging his knuckles into my ribs.

“I understand freezing up like that happens frequently when a bond is breaking between a guide and a sentinel. If you want to keep your bond with your bastard intact, then I want information. Fast. If it checks out, then you'll see him again, bond, fuck, whatever. Do we have a deal, Detective?”

“Yes,” I growled, wanting to release a little tension on this guy's hide.

He told me what he wanted and where he wanted it delivered. Blair had already given me a heads up, so we knew it was Morrison and Alton that Kincaid wanted released from custody. They were the two that were awaiting trial for the bombing of a clinic.

I agreed, and I allowed the true desperation I was feeling to show on my face. I needed to bond, and I needed to do it soon.

Blair was finding it harder to mask his reactions to the bond being dissolved. In the brothel last evening, Blair had ended up in a deeply depressed mood for most of the night. The operative with him had to get imaginative with requesting some items from the brothel's dungeon to cover up the fact that Blair had obviously been crying for a good long time. 

After I'd left the park I walked past where Henri had stationed himself, to all appearances just another citizen enjoying the park while using his slave. 

Henri followed me at a discreet distance until I climbed into Connor's vehicle. She gave me a sympathetic nudge to the shoulder, then we went to the bullpen to meet with Simon.

It was time to close the trap on Kincaid.

xxx

“Mr. Natural. I told you we'd meet again.” Kincaid moved fast, a slitherer striking at his prey, and yanked me up against him so close that our bodies were pressed together.

It was after dark, and I'd been brought to him by a handler after completing my assignment of the day of working on a factory line. The work was repetitive and wasn't complex, but it wasn't something a machine could easily do as the task required some simple judgment ability. 

I'd recognized where we were when the handler had brought me here. It was the building on the outskirts of the brothel property. I'd noticed it when Yusef and I had strolled around the grounds of Crawford's fancy whore-house my first night as a pretend cash-boy.

From the task force's intelligence, Kincaid was suspected of having his main training grounds and headquarters far away from New Rainier, somewhere out of the Hundred Worlds' jurisdiction. Crawford must be letting Kincaid use this place while he was here on New Rainier, drumming up support and probably, given what he'd asked Jim for, arranging a rescue of his incarcerated men.

Kincaid's warm breath ghosted across my skin, and he suddenly buried his head against my neck.

Alarm bells started ringing for me. This was classic sentinel behavior. I knew my pheromones were screaming out that I had to bond, but I needed Jim. I couldn't bond with anyone else, not at this point, and not ever, probably, as the final wrenching apart of our bond would most likely kill me. Well, to be more accurate, I would try to kill myself. 

Jim was more likely than me to die from the physical effects if our bond ended, but I'd follow him very soon afterwards. Soul-bonding had that effect, and I welcomed it.

Kincaid abruptly pushed me away. He looked a little shocked at his own behavior, and I wondered if he felt dirty for touching a despised bastard.

He pointed to a place on the floor. “Sit down. Let's see how much your sentinel does value his worthless guide.”

Kincaid went to a desk and busied himself with his slave, but all the time I sat there waiting I was aware of his eyes on me. He leaned forward in his chair, as if to reduce the distance between us, but I doubted he realized what he was doing.

Kincaid must have sentinel genes, too; either he was latent and they hadn't expressed yet, or he was taking suppressants and the shot was wearing off.

This was a wrinkle we hadn't planned for at all, and I spoke with Jim mind to mind, telling him what I'd learned. Jim was not pleased to learn another sentinel was taking an interest in me.

I sat, quiet as a hush-a-bye bird, and waited for my sentinel to come.

xxx

Nobody pays attention to you when you're mind-wiped. I might as well have been a dog, considering how openly Kincaid talked to his men in front of me. I recorded it all, names, places, plans of destruction. I learned that Jim had come through with the information Kincaid had asked for, and he'd been recorded turning it over to one of Kincaid's lieutenants. Kincaid had been given the packet, and he studied it carefully.

I sat cross-legged on the floor and tried to not start sniffling again. I hated these crying jags I would fall into, hated to be seen that way, but sometimes they were stronger than I was and my tears would start flowing like a waterfall. Last night, Yusef had been perplexed and embarrassed for me, but he'd been kind. He'd tried to help, gave me wet wash clothes for my face, and ended up patting me on the back as I cried into my pillow, a miserable lump on the bed. 

I thought Kincaid's response to me bawling would be more along the lines of that if I wanted to cry, he'd give me something to really cry about. 

_”Please, Jim. Tell me that you're on your way. Kincaid wants to see you, torment you before letting us bond, but if I can't touch you soon and feel our bond healing, I'm going to lose my mind. I'm a wreck, even if I'm sitting here smiling to myself.”_

_”Hang on, sweetheart. I'll be there soon. I've been blindfolded and I'm traveling in a vehicle. Like a blindfold could stop me from figuring out where we're going. These clowns obviously haven't had any practical experience with sentinels.”_

He talked to me telepathically for a while longer, but it's tiring to do it for very long and I didn't want Jim to have to deal with Kincaid feeling exhausted. He was already at a disadvantage because of the bond starting to fret away.

I decided enough was enough and that it was time for a respite. I returned to my quiet, safe haven on the spirit plane. The waterfall was just as lovely as before, the bird song as beautiful as always. I reclined on my little hill, cushioned by the vegetation on the jungle ground. I was aware of what was happening back in that room, but it seemed very remote. I experienced a great lassitude, a heaviness in my groin from longing to see and touch Jim. I touched my nipple, my shirt still open, my body beckoning, waiting for Jim. He'd been searching for me, but I was hidden from him until we bonded. Then he'd come to me here, and it would be so sweet to lie with him. It would be safer to stay hidden until then. I could break the hypno-treatment's hold so easily by reacting as myself to Jim. Better he only have the mind-wiped shell of flesh there, and meet up with the real me here when we bonded.

xxx

Kincaid's men locked my hands behind my back when they took me out of the vehicle. I could smell Blair; I could hear his slow and steady heartbeat, the soft even inhalations and exhalations that told me he was deeply in this damned mind-wiped state. My Blair, the one with the vibrant personality, well, his heartbeat would have been running a marathon with anticipation for finally being able to bond. 

I sensed him sending me reassurance through our soul-bond, a feeling that he was waiting, and for me to be patient. 

Patience. I was out of that. I'd been kept waiting for days for what was mine, and I was in no mood to be accommodating. Let Kincaid see me snarl and get primal. It would cement his certainty that he had me by the balls. I either supplied him with what he demanded or he would withhold Blair from me. But not for long. Blair would be out of there right after Kincaid made a move to snatch his men out of custody. Kincaid would be arrested. So would Crawford and Hannity. All of their assets would be seized, if they involved profits made illegally by the use of Crawford's mind-wiped convicts. That would shut down the brothels. It wouldn't close the rest of Crawford's enterprises, though. Hannity wouldn't be found guilty of sentencing bastards illegally to mind-wiping because he'd had that option as a judge. He would be nailed on the kickbacks he received, namely the free labor and payment from Crawford. All three would be arrested on charges of terrorism, though, as well as the men and women at Crawford's party. 

Two of Kincaid's thugs kept a tight grip on my arms as they marched me into the building. They shoved me into a small room and told me to wait. I heard the door lock. 

I didn't wait quietly. I paced the perimeter over and over, and I heard every word Kincaid had to say to his goons. 

And Blair. 

He kept calling him Mr. Natural, and ordered him to sit on the edge of his desk, legs wide apart. He whispered in Blair's ear that it was a shame he was a bastard, because he smelled so good.

Then Kincaid addressed me. “I bet you've got him well-trained, don't you, Ellison? Taught him just how to suck your cock, how to lie back to get fucked. I'm touching him, Ellison, and there isn't anything you can do about it. My scent on your guide. Remember that when you're fucking him, that you're just renting the boy from now on. I'll touch him when I like, and so will a lot of other people. He's got a second job as a whore, and every client that fucks him is financing my men. But you're going to learn to live with it, aren't you? Even tainted like that you'll do anything to keep bonding with him.”

I heard the sound of clothes rustling and I clenched my fists. I wanted to pound Kincaid's face into the floor. 

“I'll admit that you've got me curious about the benefits of being a sentinel. You're willing to crawl to me to spend a few minutes with your guide, so that tells me how badly you want to keep being one. I'll have to think about the benefits of having enhanced senses. Of having a guide.”

I heard Blair being yanked off the desk and up against Kincaid. I smelled pheromones – Kincaid's and Blair's. 

Blair's were for me, his body was crying out to bond. Kincaid's... it seemed to be a mixture of attraction and an unbonded sentinel's searching for a guide. 

Fuck. Kincaid _was_ a sentinel, and I was guessing that this was the first time he'd allowed himself to feel as one or maybe proximity with Blair woke his sentinel side from dormancy. 

“Mr. Natural, say, 'kiss me'.” Blair stayed silent. I heard the sound of a hand slapping flesh. “I said to say it, Mr. Natural.” Blair didn't, and Kincaid hit him again. 

“I want to help, is there something you want me to do?” Blair's voice was blankly cheerful. 

I couldn't take it. This room was equipped with a hidden camera so I knew Kincaid could hear me. I shouted, “Damn you to the lower regions of perdition, call him by his name, Blair Sandburg! He doesn't understand that you mean him when you call him Mr. Natural!” 

Kincaid laughed, a mean, spiteful sound. “My mistake. I forgot just how _stupid_ mind-wiped bastards can be. Blair Sandburg, kiss me on the lips. Open your mouth and let me in.”

_”Blair, I'm so sorry.”_

_”We'll get through this, Jim. I might have to kiss him, but it's you I want.”_

I heard Blair comply, the sounds of lips touching and exploring and the soft growl Kincaid made when he stopped kissing Blair.

“Is this how you seduced an elite into bonding with you?” I heard Blair stagger, his footsteps uneven as he tried to catch his balance.

It sounded as if Kincaid had pushed him away. Good. Well, not good that Blair had been shoved, but anything that kept Kincaid from molesting Blair I was giving a thumbs up to, although I suspected that he had stopped because his prejudice had caught up with his gonads.

Kincaid summoned his men and told them to take the guide to the sentinel's room and to release me from the lockers.

“You've got twenty minutes with him, Ellison. And if you want to come back for seconds, then you'd better impress me with your next offering.”

Kincaid left his office, the sounds of his footsteps disappearing down a hallway.

I heard the guards and Blair outside the door. I had to use every bit of will power I possessed not to rush the door and batter it down. A guard ordered me to turn around and kiss the far wall. I complied, and they came in and freed my wrists. The two men scurried a distance away, and one held up his hand as I turned to face them. 

“Stay against this wall and we'll send the guide in. Make a move against us and Kincaid's orders are to break your guide's neck.” I flattened myself against the wall and watched as they retreated to the door and stepped into the hall. 

Blair was thrust into the room and the door was slammed shut. I was moving to him before they'd finished turning the lock. 

I swept him into my arms, drinking him in with every one of my senses, even taste, as I licked at his neck. I mapped every spot on his body where Kincaid had touched what was mine. Blair's shirt was hanging open, and his nipples had been pinched up into red, hard nubs. 

Moving on instinct, I roughly opened my pants and rubbed the head of my dick against my palm and fingers. I took the slick wetness and I obliterated Kincaid's scent from Blair's body, covering every place where his skin, reddened from a slap or handled by that son-of-a-space-whore, bore traces of Kincaid's own body. 

Blair was making moaning, breathy sounds, but speech seemed beyond him. 

Finally, I painted his lips with the pre-come on my thumb and slid a finger into his mouth. 

He sucked frantically until I withdrew it, and then I kissed him possessively because he was mine; he was the other half of my fucking soul, and we were never doing this again. Not ever, for any reason, would we put ourselves through the hell of being separated. 

He broke the kiss and said my name. I looked into his eyes to check if he'd switched off the hypno-treatment, but his eyes looked guileless, the blank quality still clearly present. Through the bond, I was deluged with the affection and love he had for me. I stepped back only long enough to drag my shirt over my head and fling it to the floor, then I yanked his off and threw it on top of mine. 

“I'm going to touch you, Blair. I'm going to make you feel very good.” I wasn't sure how much Blair understand about what I was doing to him. He seemed too submissive like this. Sometimes since he'd had the hypno-treatment, he had retreated more into the spirit plane, at other times he was mostly present in his body. I wasn't sure what he'd chosen now.

_”I'm with you, man. Even if I don't look like it. Holy higher powers, I'm so ready to do this._

I moved him until his back was against the wall. I freed my dick and opened his pants and took his dick out, feeling it swell and harden under my touch. I lifted him so that we could rub against each other, belly to belly, his legs wrapped around my hips with me supporting his weight.

All the camera could record was my back and his legs. It was the best I could do for privacy. I buried my head against his neck and started to whisper to him in Sho'naken. I called him by the name Incacha had given him, Sunqu, Heart. I told him he was my heart, my soul, and I loved him. I rocked against him, over and over, breathing in the scent of him, the scent of completion as our bond, stretched to the point of breaking, snapped back to normal, and he orgasmed against me. 

I wasn't quite to the mountain's edge yet, but so, so close, and I bit him gently on the thick muscle between his neck and shoulder, hearing him gasp and feeling him squirm against me so deliciously that I fell, thrusting against him as pure pleasure sent me spiraling into an altered state.

xxx 

The warm breeze, laden with the scents of my adopted homeland filled me with a deep sense of contentment. I knew I was spirit walking, and that I wouldn't have long to enjoy this peacefulness. 

I had been here recently, slipping into this blue-tinged world from my dreams, trying to find Blair. I had not been successful then, but now there was the barest hint of his unique flavor in the air. 

I followed that scent, finally running up the path towards the waterfall where we had lain together. He would be there, I was sure, and this time I would finally see him. The bond we'd just renewed had taken down the veil that had kept me from him.

The path twisted as I climbed higher, and soon I could feel a cool mist from the waterfall. The air was heavy with the smell of flowers, but they didn't disguise the scent I was tracking.

Blair was very close. I slowed to a stalk, looking off the trail into the nearby bushes. I listened, and there was the sound of his heartbeat. 

Where was he? I called out, smiling in relief when he answered me.

And there, now I could see him. He looked relaxed and comfortable, wanton as he lay there, clothes opened and head thrown back, his vulnerable throat exposed. Waiting for me.

“I have bided my time here, Enqueri. Here where it is safe for us to meet.”

He was baring his neck to me and that was all the invitation I needed. I went to him and stretched myself along his side, and I took what he offered. 

As we had done in that small desolate room, we renewed our bond and achieved great pleasure with each other's bodies. 

Afterwards, panting and replete with satisfaction, we talked. He'd been aware of everything that had happened to him, even when the doctor had told he wouldn't come to himself for several days. 

“The training from Incacha and the other shamans gave me an advantage, I believe. Enqueri, we should make plans now, before the door to the room opens and you are sent away.”

“Simon told me that the task force wants to catch Kincaid in the act of trying to free his men. That would tie him to them to make a better case in court for convicting him of being a terrorist. We've got him talking about continuing his own reign of terror, but this would show him actually acting. I'm turning over the plans to transport his captured men from the IBI's secure cells in Old Portland to the Westside Justice Center in Cascade. The agents doing the transporting will take a break at a scheduled rest stop before we come into Cascade. That rest stop's been closed for renovations to the public, but it's open to government workers. All you need to do to enter is to have the guard check your code with a skimmer.”

I idly let my fingers trace the whorls of soft hair on his chest and down his belly. 

“When Kincaid attempts to rescue Alton and Morrison, we'll bust him. We'll have ringers for those two, so there's no chance they'll actually spring them. The real perps are going to be transported to court by a different route. 

I dropped a kiss on those tempting lips, so plush and soft, then I explained the rest of the plan. 

“At that rest stop, agents and protectors will be hiding in the buildings and in vehicles and in the woods behind the place. I'll be there. Once we have Kincaid, the rest of the operation will take place. The brothels, Crawford's complex and his businesses, everything will be seized. Hannity and every last one of his party guests will find themselves in custody. It's going to be massive, and all the agencies will have a part.”

I stroked his hair. “You'll be safe, either at the brothel with Yusef, or with Connor at the dorm, when we spring the trap. I can't wait for you to be really yourself again, Sunqu.”

“I know, Enqueri. But we will have the weight of ten years lifted from my sentence, when this is truly over.” He lifted his head and looked disappointed. “You must go now. There is a disturbance in the room.”

I kissed him farewell, and when I opened my eyes I was in my body and my hands were locked behind me again.

Kincaid's thugs had pulled me away from Blair and were leering, their eyes on our exposed dicks. Blair, his trousers barely clinging to his hips, looked like a debauched angel from the Old Religion myths; I asked him to fasten his pants, and mine, and to use my shirt to wipe off our bellies. He complied, his eyes and expression untroubled. I told him to put his shirt on and he did it, smiling at me and the guards.

I fucking hated seeing him smile that way, innocent and open and enticing. The guard on my left started spilling arousal pheromones, and his body heat started to rise. Blair was so vulnerable to predators like this. I turned my head and bared my teeth at the guard whose dick was coming to attention.

“I'll know, asshole, if he's touched. I sure as hell will remember you.”

The guard lost his arousal abruptly. 

The other man sneered at me, though. “You aren't going to do anything, not if you want to screw him again. And he's a whore now, I hear. Lots of people will be using him. Better get used to it.”

He gave me a push towards the door. “Kincaid wants to see you. Move.”

_”It's okay, Jim. Love you, man.”_

_”You use that safe word, Blair, if you need to. We've got enough on these guys right now to take to court.”_

_”I know. Be safe, Enqueri.”_

 

xxx 

When the guards escorted me into Kincaid's office, he was standing by a window. He turned and eyed me coldly.

“You'll serve the Sunrise Patriots from now on, Detective Ellison. I'll want your help to free my men. When they're safely out of the Hundred Worlds' range, then you can have your guide back to fuck, for oh, let's say for the evening. Keep showing me results and you can have him for a whole night.”

“I've got an idea how you can spring Morrison and Alton the day of their trial. I need to check on some details first, though. How should I contact you?”

He gave me a comm number and ordered one of his men to find me a shirt before I was taken to my vehicle. I left in lockers, but I swore that the next time we met, the lockers would be on him.

On the way to be dropped off, blindfolded again, I listened to Blair's heartbeat until I risked falling into a zone. But our bond was strong again, and I felt his love shot through it like sunlight through leaves.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part Seven**

“Are you warm enough?” Yusef had opted for us to move from the house to one of the private arbors after the usual rumpling and staining of the sheets. He'd booked me for the last two nights while the task force and Jim completed the plans for catching Kincaid red-handed trying to liberate his “prisoners of war,” as I'd overheard him refer to the men in custody.

“I'm warm.” He'd wrapped me in a blanket as we reclined together on the lounge, tucked away in a private corner of the garden. I was still pretending to be mind-wiped, but I could answer simple questions and stay in character. Thank all the higher powers that I could drop the act once the sun was up. The massive arrests were scheduled in the pre-dawn, when guards would be sleepy and the majority of Crawford's employees wouldn't be at work yet. 

As soon as the trap at the rest stop was sprung, the brothel would be shut down. Crawford and Hannity would be arrested at their homes and their assets seized. The building Kincaid was using would be stormed and any of the Sunrise Patriots militia on the premises would be arrested.

Yusef had told me last night, once he'd satisfied himself that our brothel room hadn't come equipped with any recording devices, that the task force's plan was for us to stay out in the arbor, away from the chaos that was sure to happen once the IBI started arresting the staff. When agents swept the gardens, Yusef would identify himself as one of the good guys, and I could return to being myself. 

Jim had told me, mind-to-mind, that Megan was going to take out the guard in the complex's security office and turn off the alarms and jam the gates open for the protectors to swarm inside. Megan was tops at martial arts, but she also was smuggling in some items that seemed innocuous but that she could use as weapons. During our Academy training, I'd seen her pocket stick that she disguised as a key ring. She could bring a man twice her size to his knees by applying it against the right nerves. 

“I think I hear something,” Yusef said in a low voice. I listened, too, and it sounded like footsteps. This was it then, the raid was about to start.

Yusef was behind me, arms wrapped around my chest, and his legs bracketing me. I scooted forward and he swung his legs around to stand up just as four men entered the arbor.

I started to untangle myself from the blanket but stopped when one of the men asked if I was Sandburg. 

“Who are you?” Yusef asked, and my feelings of relief did a pendulum swing.

The men ignored the question; one of them grabbed my hand and pulled a skimmer out of a pocket and checked my code. 

“Who the hell are you?” Yusef demanded, an edge to his voice, and the first man took a step closer. 

“It's him,” the goon with the skimmer confirmed to the guy who was apparently the one in charge. 

“You don't need to know. He's coming with us,” said the spokesman. 

“Like hell,” said Yusef, and clocked the guy. I kissed my mind-wiped act goodbye, shucking the rest of my blanket off and struggling to free myself from the one who still had my wrist. Yusef was kicking ass, but he was one against four. I managed to yank my arm free by kicking my captor in the nuts, and I dove into the fight. Yusef dropped one of our attackers to the ground, and I used some of the dirty tricks Roy had shown me so long ago. Roy, an illegal boxer, had taught me them strictly for self-defense. He'd been my friend and occasional lover, and he'd stood by me when I needed help. 

We needed help right now. I knew Jim was picking up on my emotions. Anger, fear, worry for Yusef, puzzlement, too. Who were these guys? They weren't the IBI, that was for sure. I was too busy throwing punches and ducking them to use telepathy, and then I found that I couldn't, as one of the goons stunned both of us. My limbs refused to work and my mind started shutting down. 

I wanted so badly to tell Jim what had happened, to shout “Quylllur” to him, but I couldn't form any words in my head. My vision narrowed to a small, dark tunnel, the last thing I saw before everything went black.

xxx

 

“What is it, Ellison?” Gorski, built like the mountain he'd told me his name meant, scanned the sky from our hiding place at the edge of the rest stop. “Do you hear the flitters?”

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the bond, swaying a little on my feet. Something had gone wrong, Blair had been a maelstrom of emotions – anger, worry, and the overwhelming sense of “fight” and then those emotions had been blanked out. Blair was unconscious. 

“My partner's been attacked. I'm calling Banks, the raid on the brothel needs to go down now!” 

I commed Simon, as Gorski said, puzzled. “Partner? Do you mean your guide? How in perdition do you know that?”

I ignored him. I didn't have time to explain about how a soul-bond worked. 

The protectors transporting our decoys would be here in fifteen minutes, and Kincaid planned to swoop down with three flitters and free his men from “The oppressors of the true and natural order of society.” I'd been brought back to his headquarters, blindfolded again, to finalize the plans of my betrayal, and he'd kept spouting his twisted rhetoric for my benefit. 

I was sick of hearing his garbage.

Simon's welcome voice pulled me back to the present, and I told him what I'd felt from Blair. 

“Jim, I'll do what I can, but timing is essential here. We cannot let Kincaid or his cronies be tipped off and have them slip through our fingers. Blair is alive, right? You'd know if he was being hurt or dying?” Simon's concern was genuine, but he was balancing that with the needs of the mission. 

“He's alive. I don't know if he's been hurt. Sir, let me go and infiltrate the brothel grounds. I'll pull him out, get him to safety.”

It was my commanding officer who answered my plea. “Ellison, until I say otherwise, stay with the plan. Kincaid expects you to be at that rest stop. He could be spooked if you're not there doing your part. That's an order, Detective. But I'll make finding Blair a top priority as soon as the raid on the brothel is a go.”

“Sir, his bone beacon. Can you get Community Service to monitor it again?”

“Good thinking. I'll have his coordinates sent to your comm and mine. We'll find him. Stay on Kincaid, Detective.”

I gritted out an affirmative and dropped down next to Gorski, who wisely kept silent. 

It was a waiting game now, and I silenced the voices of my fears and clung to my one hope. Blair was alive. 

xxx

Kincaid had ordered me to be at the rest stop to make sure his men were rescued, even if that meant me shooting at fellow protectors. We had armament to bring down the flitters, if needed. It would suit me to see Kincaid fall to his death. It would be even sweeter to make it happen personally. Blair probably wouldn't approve, tell me it was bad for my karma, an ancient philosophy that fascinated him, but Blair was silent. This time, he didn't get a vote. 

Before long, the operatives with eyes on Kincaid's headquarters sent intelligence that flitters had arrived and left again. I had commed Kincaid's contact with confirmation that the prisoners had passed the last check point on time, and that I expected them to arrive here as scheduled for their twenty-five minutes of break time. It was a three-hour drive from Old Portland to this stop, and from here another two hours to the Westside Justice Center where their trial was scheduled to begin today. I searched with my hearing and after a while heard the distant, distinct whoom, whoom, whoom, of the arriving flitters. I passed the word to get ready.

The decoys, wearing facial replications of the prisoner's faces and chosen for similar body types, were equipped with jammers to render the flitters inoperable, once they were close enough to them. They were armed and well-trained in take downs. Kincaid's amateurs were in for a surprise, confronting trained agents instead of hapless civilians. 

My comm vibrated against me; hoping that it was information on Blair's whereabouts, I quickly checked it while Gorkski muttered in disbelief that I was allowing myself to be distracted when we would be engaged in only moments.

It _was_ Blair's coordinates, and the visual showed him not too far away and getting closer and closer. He was moving much too fast to be in a land vehicle. I joined my sight with hearing and scanned the sky. I saw three small shapes rapidly approaching, and my gut clenched. 

Blair was on one of those flitters.

 

xxx

Dawn had broken when the large black IBI vehicle, easily identified with the official logo, checked in at the entrance to the rest stop and slowly advanced up to the building that had an open sign at the front. The other two buildings, on either side of the bathrooms, had housed cafes and small shops for travelers to browse. They were closed for renovations. The real construction workers weren't on site, but Kincaid's men would see the tools and men and women, our backup, busily working. 

Blair was still unconscious and unable to respond to my telepathic demands that he talk to me.

I was afraid that Kincaid had brought Blair along to use as a hostage to force me to do something else for him, or worse, that after the prisoners were transferred to the flitters, he would make a run to leave the planet, taking Blair with him.

I was in charge, and it would be on my command that action would take place. The flitters would be here in one minute, and I gave the order for the decoys to be walked up towards the rest rooms. Everyone was wearing protective vests, but we all knew things could go wrong. I also told them Kincaid had at least one hostage on one of the flitters. I was betting Blair was with Kincaid. The prick liked having his toys close by. I zoomed up my vision and saw that two of the flitters were built to dart easily into relatively small areas. One was quite a bit larger. It would suit Kincaid's ego to be in the larger flitter, as he would think it more suitable for a leader of his status.

The flitters started to descend between the parked vehicles and the building, trapping the four agents and decoys between them. I commed my contact on the flitter and confirmed that the group on the ground was their target. A spray of weapons fire hit the ground both in front of and behind the small group, far enough away that the decoys wouldn't be hit. Everyone between the first flitter and the second flitter fell quickly to the pavement. Both flitters settled with a thump, the rotors barely moving and the sound level dropped drastically. 

Kincaid's voice boomed out of the first flitter's speakers. I was still betting he was in the large flitter that was circling around the rest stop and was relaying his message through the other flitter. 

“In the name of the Sunrise Patriots, I, Garrett Kincaid, order that these prisoners of war be released from the hands of the corrupt government that pushes the bastard agenda upon society.”

Kincaid's making that statement had not been expected. So far, the asshole had been content to have his name hinted at as being a part of the string of bombings, but he'd never taken credit for any actions till now. This signaled a change of policy, a blatant step towards challenging the government. 

I waited, tense, for more instructions to be given. The four agents on the ground would be the most vulnerable, and they'd bargain to move to cover as the decoys went to the flitter.

“Detective James Ellison of Major Interplanetary Crimes. Show yourself. Oh, and Blair Sandburg passes along his greetings.”

What the... That wasn't in the plans Kincaid and I had made. I was there in case things went wrong during the transfer of the decoys, not to out myself as his inside man.

I stood up, wondering if Kincaid would shoot me. But he had Blair, so I did what he'd asked. It seemed more likely he had some grandstanding involving me planned. I suspected that all of this was being recorded and would go galaxy viral as soon as Kincaid released the footage.

“Detective Ellison, no longer do you have to hide your true allegiance. As a faithful member of the Sunrise Patriots, one who has risked himself to bring us needed information from the corrupt agencies that suppress the heroes fighting to rid New Rainier society and all of the Hundred Worlds' peoples of the insidious and blighting actions of the bastard class, you are now freed to join me at my side.”

I'd been right. The asshole was grandstanding. Somehow, I doubted I was going to be a Sunrise Patriot hero for long. 

The large flitter came down much lower and an emergency ladder dropped out the open doorway, dragging on the ground near the decoys and agents on the ground.

I ran over by them and said, turning my body so that our communication was private, “Follow the plan once I'm up there. I'll try to stall him, but he's got my partner. Tell Banks to track Sandburg by his beacon.”

I caught the ladder and started to climb up, the flitter rising rapidly in the air. I held on grimly and continued to move upwards. Blair seemed to be starting to come around, but confusion was the main thing I was feeling from him.

I was five or six rungs away from the doorway when one of Kincaid's goons appeared and held a gun on me. I climbed up till my face was level with the deck of the flitter and then two more goons pulled me in and flung me down so that I was sprawled at Kincaid's feet.

xxx

“Glad you could join us, Detective.” I lurched to my feet with the help of the thugs, who started relieving me of my weapons. Kincaid was staring at me, a hateful expression on his face.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kincaid? Why did you break my cover like that?” I snarled. 

He snorted with derision. “Do you take me for a fool, Ellison? You weren't going to put up with having only the occasional access to your guide. After watching you with him, I knew it was only a matter of time before you stole him from Crawford and disappeared out into the far reaches of space. You wouldn't have been any good to me then, so I'm going to squeeze a little more use out of you. You're going to make a series of holos to advance our cause. You'll help with recruiting, with your stirring patriotic speeches that I'll write for you. I'll enjoy that, hearing my words leaving your mouth. By rights, you should be one of us. You're an elite, although a poor specimen of one the way you treated your bastard guide as if he were your equal.”

He waved a hand towards Blair, who was slumped in a seat at the rear of the flitter. I saw Blair's eyes start to flutter and his hand twitch. 

I searched with my mind for his. _”Blair, are you okay?”_

He didn't answer me. He wasn't recovered enough yet.

“What's wrong with him?” Kincaid gave me a nasty, smug smile.

“He was stunned when my men invited him to join me. Do as I say, and we'll see about letting you bond again as a reward. Oh, and I've got plans for him. I'll explain them later. Right now, I've got men to rescue.”

He ordered the agents on the ground to free his men from the lockers and to let them climb in the flitters, or be killed, his voice booming from the flitter on the ground.

The expected negotiations began, with the agents having their guns trained on the decoys, who slowly advanced towards the flitters as the agents stepped towards the cover of the buildings being renovated. There were marksmen in there, part of the construction crew, but if possible the task force wanted Kincaid's men brought in alive. If they started shooting at the agents, though, the snipers had permission to return fire. 

Blair was definitely stirring now, and I heard a soft groan escape him. I tried again to talk to him, mind to mind, but he didn't answer. I didn't know if he could hear me, but I explained what was happening, in case he was able to comprehend. 

I was hoping to take advantage of the confusion when the decoys attacked the flitters to take out Kincaid, his three goons, and the pilot. Five targets. And I didn't want to crash us. I had plans for Blair and me, and they didn't involve dying in a flitter or making holos for Kincaid's propaganda machine.

I knew when the decoys has acted by the outraged yells of the men in the flitters as the jammers were activated and concussion stunners lobbed into the open doors. I wasn't sure Kincaid could hear them. His sentinel senses might be awakening, or might still be dormant, but that became a moot point as one of the men below us managed to comm Kincaid and alert him before he fell silent.

I jammed my elbow into the neck of the man on my left, felling him to the flitter's floor and breaking the nose of the man on my right as I hammered my forearm into his face. Quickly, I stomped on the man on the floor, hearing ribs break, and as the man on my right doubled over in pain, turned and kneed him in the groin. His dark face turned the color of putty, and he passed out.

Unfortunately, while I was taking those two out, the third thug had time to train his weapon on me. He ordered me to freeze and then dared me to make a move.

Kincaid swore; his face contorted with fury, he ordered the pilot to abort the mission and head towards his ship. 

The flitter shot up high in the sky and within seconds the rest stop was far behind us. I cursed silently, knowing that if Blair and I hadn't been aboard, our people would have brought this flitter down with the weaponry brought to the rest stop. 

Kincaid trained a gun on me and said, winter in his voice, “Ellison, you're going to regret that betrayal. Bennett, move the injured to the rear of the flitter and bring that bastard with you when you return. I think it's time for some payback.”

He ordered me into a seat as Bennett dragged his teammates out of the way. Bennett told Kincaid that they were both alive, but unconscious. 

Blair stumbled as Bennett roughly pushed him in front of Kincaid. Kincaid put his hands on Blair's shoulders and shoved him down on his knees.

_”Blair, are you okay?”_

He still didn't respond, but I knew from our bond that he was bewildered.

“Keep your gun on Ellison, Bennett. I'm going to explain a few things to him shortly.”

Kincaid was standing up behind the pilot. He turned around and laid his weapon on an empty seat next to the woman. “Wang, what's our ETA?”

“Sir, we should arrive at the landing site in an hour.”

“Comm the crew, alert them that we are coming in hot and leaving as soon as the flitter is stowed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kincaid turned and looked down at me over Blair's kneeling form. He laid his hands on Blair's head and slid them through Blair's hair, twining curls around his fingers. I longed to stop him, but the timing wasn't good. I'd grit my teeth and wait. For now. 

I'd always found Blair's wild mop satisfying to caress, silky and soothing, especially when my sense of touch was strong. I had to wonder again if Kincaid was coming on-line as a sentinel. 

“I have to thank you, Detective, for letting me know Mr. Natural's name. I hadn't bothered to learn it, since he was just a bastard. I recognized the name 'Sandburg' and I confirmed just who this particular little bastard happens to be. Naomi Sandburg's natural son. The beautiful Naomi Sandburg, champion of the bastard cause in her younger years; I understand she's retired now. Too risky for her to continue to rail against 'injustice' when she's a person of interest herself for the odd bombing or two of offices containing precious genetic information.”

He began caressing Blair's face. 

“I hate Naomi Sandburg. She stands for everything I've fought against for all these years. She conceived her bastard as a living protest against the system that has protected the upper classes. It will give me great pleasure to let it be known that Naomi Sandburg's bastard boy sucks my cock on command. He looks good on his knees, doesn't he? Well, of course you're used to seeing him like this. Your bastard guide. But you're not used to seeing him service me. Well, not yet at any rate. Get used to it. You're going to witness it every day, until I break your bond. Please me by doing as I ask for the holos, and I'll postpone destroying it. But once your bond is gone, then I'll take Mr. Natural as my guide, and he'll learn his proper place. He'll be a slave, and the rightful order of society will be served.”

He looked at me, enjoyment written all over his face. The man was an egomaniac. His mission had gone to perdition, his men captured; I hadn't heard him give any orders about warning Crawford or Hannity or the men still at his headquarters. He was more intent on besting me by abusing Blair than taking care of his allies. 

Blair was swaying on his knees, and I hated what Kincaid was planning for him.

“Don't move, Ellison. I want to see you use some self-control, so I'm not putting you in lockers. Bennett, if he does move, shoot him. Try not to kill him, but if you do, that will be considered an acceptable loss.”

He tilted Blair's face so that he had to look up at him. “Open your mouth, Blair Sandburg. When I put my cock between your pretty lips, you're going to suck it like a good boy. Suck it until I tell you to stop, and that won't be until I come in your mouth.”

He shot one last look of triumph at me and unfastened his pants, and took out his dick. He wasn't hard yet; his dick was soft and small. He pumped himself a couple of times and then pressed his rapidly hardening dick against Blair's lips. 

“That's right, Mr. Natural. Open your mouth just like that. I'm sticking my cock in your guide's mouth, Ellison. Enjoy the show.”

xxx

 

I was told to open my mouth, but I didn't want to do it. It was so hard to think right now, but every second that went by I could feel my mind becoming clearer. 

_”Jim?”_

_”I'm behind you. Kincaid wants you to suck his cock. I'm so sorry, Blair.”_

_”Where are we?”_ Kincaid's dick nosed at my lips, and I needed time to figure out what to do. I had to stall. I let my lips part and the taste and feel of him filled my mouth. He started murmuring, “suck it, suck it.” He thrust it in deeper and I complied. I didn't know everything that was happening here, but I knew that Jim was a prisoner. My safe word was useless because he would never let this happen to me if he could stop it.

_”Jim, what's happened? Tell me fast, so we can come up with a plan.”_

He did, a quick military briefing, outlining where our enemies were located and where we were headed. If we were transferred to Kincaid's ship, it would be harder to escape from him. Simon was tracking my beacon, but this flitter was moving fast and they couldn't shoot it out of the sky without killing us, too. Simon would keep the task force from authorizing that move. Both Jim and I trusted him to protect us from our own side.

I tightened my mouth on Kincaid's dick as I sucked him hard and he moved his hips against me, making triumphant, gratified sounds. We needed a distraction to turn the tables on our captors, and I would give Jim the best one I could. I explained what I was going to do and gave him a countdown. Kincaid was getting close to his orgasm, his dick was so hard and round in my mouth. I wrapped my hands behind Kincaid's knees, and in his pleasure I don't think he even noticed. Three, two, one...

I bit Kincaid's dick hard and pulled him towards me. He screamed, a high-pitched wail of agony, and tried to move backwards, away from the pain. I bit him again, blood flooding my mouth. He landed on the floor of the flitter, writhing like a nest of slitherers. I landed awkwardly on top of him, and I yanked my mouth off his dick and pummeled him, my sudden fury at his raping me giving me strength.

I heard scuffling behind me. I hoped Kincaid's screaming had startled Jim's captor and that Jim had exploded into the fighting machine I knew he could be. 

Suddenly I had my hands full with Kincaid. He started fighting back and wrapped his legs around me and did something so that we flipped and he was on top of me. His eyes were wild with hate, and I head butted him. He loosened his hold on me and I scrambled out from under him and staggered to my feet. I kicked at him and he caught my foot and twisted it. Something in my leg tore, but I pulled free and moved backwards. He lurched after me and I was hard pressed to stay out of his reach. He was between me and the weapon Jim told me was on the seat at the front of the flitter.

Bennett and Jim were exchanging blows and every time I was able to glance their way, I saw they were closer and closer to the open doorway of the flitter. Jim landed a series of hits on the guy's head, and he toppled to the floor. Jim jumped over him and headed for Kincaid. Kincaid saw him approaching, saw his man down, and rushed at Jim, screaming. 

I grabbed the gun and turned to aim it at Kincaid and my heart stopped in fear.

Jim had tried to jump away from Kincaid's mad rush, but instead he'd tripped over the body on the floor. He was teetering at the edge of the doorway and Kincaid gave a wild laugh and jumped over Bennett to shove Jim out of the flitter.

A wave of grief and anger washed over me so strongly that it carried me over the body on the floor and straight to Kincaid. He realized just in time that I was coming for him and tried to hit me with his fists. 

He couldn't stop me. Nothing could have stopped me. I was screaming Jim's name out loud and in my mind, and I rammed into Kincaid, one hand outstretched, the other shoving the gun against him, and forced him to fall out the door to _end_ him for causing the death of my sentinel. 

 

xxx

 

Diverting myself to almost crash into the metal side of the flitter, but away from the door, I thought about jumping out after Jim. I was going to die anyway, why not follow him? I didn't look out. But he wouldn't want these assholes to get away, so I lurched to the pilot and pointed the gun at her.

She refused to set down the flitter at first, telling me that if she didn't fly it I would die, but I told her I'd flown flitters and was an experienced space pilot. My tone of voice or maybe the look in my eye convinced her, and she immediately started a descent.

_”Blair! What's happening?”_

_”Jim? Enqueri? You can still talk to me? Even when you're dead?”_

_”What? Blair, I'm not dead! Neither is Kincaid. He's hanging onto my legs, and I grabbed the end of the ladder. Make the pilot slow down. I'm okay, though, I've got a good grip. I'm okay, Chief.”_

My legs became too wobbly for me stand up, and I sank down into the seat next to the woman. I kept the gun on her, though.

“Land this bucket now. But slowly. I've been through a lot this week, and I might get shaky otherwise. I'd hate to see you get shot.” 

She glanced at me and complied. We drifted down from the sky and I checked again, mind to mind, with Jim, hardly believing that he was alive. He reassured me that he was safe, that he'd secured himself to the ladder with lockers he still had on his belt. 

A ladder. There was a ladder hanging from the flitter and Jim had grabbed it. Jim hadn't fallen to his death. 

It was finished. Simon would have backup here to take over after we'd landed, and then I could wrap my arms around Jim and go home.

Me. Not a mind-wiped shell of a person. Me. Me and Jim.

xxx


	8. Chapter 8

****

**Epilogue**

 

Blair was looking out the window as I began our descent into Quyllur's atmosphere. His voice sounded dreamy to me as he murmured to himself, as the sight of the land and the sea grew larger to us.

“Oh, man, I am so going to be on that beach, the one where you can walk right into Quilla Rumi and eat at that fantastic little bar. I can practically taste Manoley's grilled sea bish. And they make this dessert with Agrasa and set it on fire, and it does this thing with the sweetener that is so damn good, it could make a grown man cry.”

“Anything you want to do or eat, Chief, we're doing it. We've got two whole months to enjoy being home before we're needed for trial preparations. We can hang out on the beach until your leg is totally healed, and then we'll go visit our people. Incacha will be pleased to see his son again.”

Blair turned away from the window and smiled at me. “Everyone will be glad to see Enqueri, their sentinel. And I want us to go up to our place, at the waterfall. My safe place was modeled on it, and I feel grateful to the land. I'd like to meditate there.”

“Maybe renew our bond there, too?” I asked hopefully.

Blair waggled his eyebrows at me, looking ridiculous and adorable. “Fuck like loppers?”

“Like I said, whatever you want, you've got it.”

A mischievous grin stole across his face. “I could get used to being spoiled.”

“I like spoiling you. So we're good.”

“Yeah, we're good.” He exhaled, a slow release of tension and returned to looking out the window. He kept up a running commentary, pointing out landmarks he recognized as I flew us to the spaceport.

We both deserved and needed this time on Quyllur. The aftermath of taking down Kincaid had been hectic and demanding. The arrests had gone smoothly at Hannity's home, Crawford Industries, and the brothel, with no injuries. Kincaid's men had put up a fight at his headquarters, and two of them had been killed; one of our protectors had been shot in the shoulder. Nobody had been hurt, terrorists or agents, at the rest stop; that operation had worked like a charm, except for my unexpected invitation to join Kincaid in his flitter.

After the pilot had landed the flitter, I'd secured Kincaid with the lockers that I'd used to make sure I wouldn't fall to my death while hanging onto the ladder. Those few seconds of tumbling through the air had been bizarre, and I still couldn't remember grabbing the ladder. I'd been so tempted to just shake off Kincaid when he'd latched onto my legs, but I'd controlled myself. Barely. I wasn't a vigilante, and the thought of him facing trial and imprisonment had helped me with controlling those impulses to kick him free of me and watch him fall to his death for what he'd done to Blair.

Maybe I _had_ enjoyed securing him roughly, making sure he was in no position to even look at Blair.

Blair had been a trooper. He'd helped secure the pilot and the three goons before dropping down to sit in the doorway of the flitter. He kept his gun trained on all of our prisoners, who were lined up face down on the grass, and watched me secure their wrists behind their backs and wrap their ankles in tape. 

Blair was bleeding from a cut on his arm, and I could feel the extra warmth on his skin where bruises would be forming over the next few days. He'd been limping, and his face was white. There was blood smeared on his lips and on his chin. 

It wasn't his. I hadn't bothered to check Kincaid's dick, but I'd seen the blood around his groin. There wasn't any arterial bleeding, or his trousers would be dripping with it. He could wait for medical attention.

I heard the sirens in the distance and warned Blair. He hadn't tried to wash his face or clean his mouth. He knew as well as I did that evidence of the rape would have to be collected first. I finished with the last prisoner's bonds and sat down next to him. I put my arm around him, and he relaxed and dropped his head on my shoulder. I took the gun from his hand and mentally told him to rest. 

I kept watch, Blair almost dozing against me, the adrenaline let down and the effects of being stunned combining to exhaust him. Our relief arrived, lights and sirens shattering the peacefulness of the countryside, and soon afterwards Simon came himself. He told me he damn well planned on making sure that Blair was treated right by the other agents and the task force. 

Blair asked about Yusef. IBI agents had found him, unconscious still from being stunned, and had taken him to the hospital to recover. 

The next several days had been busy with wrapping up the case. We'd been transported to the hospital, and a rape kit completed. Blair's chip was removed and entered in the chain of custody. He'd turned it on during the attack at the brothel and when he'd regained consciousness it had still been recording; Kincaid raping Blair was documented in horrific detail.

The massive amounts of information on the chip would be a good part of the prosecution's case against Judge Hannity, Crawford and the group he'd formed to support Kincaid, and Kincaid himself, as well as a host of more minor players, such as the staff at the brothel and Kincaid's men.

Joel Taggart had come by the loft, concern written all over his warm, brown face. He'd given Blair permission to leave the planet and arranged for him to have counseling. Blair agreed with that. He'd had some trouble sleeping since Kincaid had raped him, and he told me that for a while, he'd like to skip giving me oral sex. I'd told him he never had to do anything with me that made him feel uncomfortable. He said he knew that and hugged me hard.

He'd seen the counselor twice before we left, and had told me he felt better afterwards. We both would see her when we returned, but I thought that coming to Quyllur would help immensely with Blair's healing.

The debriefings and statements had eaten up a lot of our time before we went off-planet. The media was fascinated by the story and gave some much needed attention to the flaws in our justice system.

Blair had asked if the bastards Hannity had sent to be mind-wiped could have their sentences appealed. Most of them hadn't deserved that harsh a sentence, but if the law was strictly interpreted Hannity had not sentenced them illegally. Their sentences would not be appealed, but for the ones used as whores, lawyers representing their interests in a class action suit were suing Crawford to pay for their retirement and asking that guardians be assigned to look out for their well-being. The mind-wipes were irreversible, unfortunately. 

One positive repercussion of this scandal was that advocacy groups were clamoring to add an automatic appeals procedure after a person, regardless of their class, was sentenced to mind-wiping. The new proposal was that before a person had their personality and intelligence altered, a panel of judges would review the case and had to jointly agree on the procedure before it would be implemented.

I was skeptical that the law would be changed right away, but at least some first steps had been taken. 

Blair had met with Yusef Collins while they both were giving statements on the brothel case. He introduced me to the man, and I thanked him for being so considerate of Blair. Yusef had winked at Blair and then told me I was a lucky man. Blair hugged him before we left. 

Connor was staying in MIC as part of the protector exchange program, and the three of us had spent an evening together before we left Cascade. Connor and I teamed up to make Blair laugh with our stories about how we'd gotten along as man and wife. 

And I am not anal-retentive, no matter what evidence those two thought they had on me.

Thinking about that again brought a reluctant grin to my face as I did the methodical post-flight checks on our bird, now that we had landed. 

“What's making you smile like that, Jim?”

“Oh, Connor and her insistence that I'm anal-retentive. You were just going along with her the other night, right, Chief? You don't think that, do you?”

Blair bit his lip, and pushed himself out of his seat.

“Chief?”

He leaned over me and kissed me thoroughly, a slow, seductive promise of pleasure to come. 

“Nice kiss, junior. Now answer the question.”

“Well, let's just say that you have an incredible gift for detail, Jim. And I'm very glad that you do. Demonstrate it on me later, okay? After we go for a swim and eat and are relaxing in our beach side cottage?” 

“That's a promise, Chief.”

We gathered our luggage and disembarked. I took his hand and squeezed it when we walked towards the space port to register our bird.

I concentrated for a moment on our soul bond, and Blair was feeling more relaxed and contented with each step he took. 

It was good to be home again. And when we returned to Cascade, Blair would have the right to resume his studies. Joel Taggart promised to see to it that the university re-instated Blair. Since Joel had the backing of the Justice Department, and their lawyers, he didn't expect any problems. 

I stopped Blair for a moment, and he looked up at me, a little puzzled.

“I just... Blair, I'm sorry. And I'm going to clear your name. You know I haven't stopped looking for leads, right?”

“I know. But you're a sentinel, not one of the gods. If we can't find proof of my innocence, at least we'll still be together. Loving each other. That's more than a lot of people have in their lives.”

He smiled and thwacked me on the chest. “And man, we are on vacation. So kiss me, and let's go. I want us to play in the waves and get baked in the sun.”

Blair's my guide. And wise. I followed his orders and kissed him, loving him, hearing the sound of waves in our future.

xxx

The End

**Author's Note:**

> Author's notes: The quote from Yogi the Wise is one from Yogi Berra. Blair's paraphrased quote regarding people not objecting to others being abused, as long as they themselves are left alone, is based on one from Pastor Martin Niemoller on the rise of the Nazis to power.


End file.
